The New Generation: Year Two
by Ruthie Smith
Summary: Coming back to Hogwarts for the second time, the stakes are only going to get higher for James and his friends...
1. Chapter 1

"Al! Get up, you idiot!"

James Potter enthusiastically whacked his younger brother over the head with a pillow, causing him to groan and mumble "Gerrofandgoaway."

"Sun's shining! Birds birding! Clouds clouding! Come on, Mum's making _break_-fast!" James didn't normally sing as a rule, but he felt today allowed it. The first day of the rest of his life! Going back to Hogwarts for another year! He'd be able to show his brother the ropes, and they could pull pranks together. The Potter Pranksters had a nice ring to it, he mused as he brutally wrenched back the curtains to his younger brother's room, allowing sunlight to flood the room like a tsunami, casting light onto the piles of Martin Miggs comics, chocolate frog cards, and Falmouth Falcons posters. His room looked similar, apart from the Quidditch teams (James was a devoted Wimbourne Wasps fan)- needless to say, this had been the cause of many fights. Well, at least Mum and Dad couldn't stick their noses into their battles- ahem, friendly joshing- when they were at school.

He turned to face his brother, whose vivid green eyes were narrowed into slits. "Hurry up, slowcoach! Last one down's a Slytherin...although who knows, you might be one anyway!"

He laughed, ducking Albus' badly aimed pillow and yell of anger, and dashed along the corridor to his father's office. As per usual, everything was in a state of disorder, with parchment scattered over the large wooden desk and books piling up on every available surface. Harry Potter took his job as an Auror extremely seriously.

Seeing that he wasn't there, James turned to leave, and then spotted what looked like a large map on the desk. It seemed to be moving... curiously, he moved forwards to have a look. It was old, with the edges curled up with age. With a start, he realised that he was looking at a map of Hogwarts, and those moving dots...they were labelled! With names- he could see a dot labelled Professor Dawlish pacing in his office! This, in effect, he realised, showed exactly what people were doing.

He had to have it. Folding it up hastily, he stuffed the little treasure trove into his pocket, and hoped that Harry wouldn't realise that it had gone until after they'd left. This would be absolutely invaluable for pranking, and avoiding teachers and prefects, not to mention the old- but annoying- caretaker, Argus Filch, and his assistant, Terry Boot.

Looking up, James saw someone staring at him- and jumped, instinctively reaching for his wand, before seeing that it was his own reflection staring back at him. He paused for a moment to study the boy standing in front of him: hazel eyes stared out of his face above a bridge of summer-induced freckles, and was framed by a thatch of black Potter hair, which, true to form, absolutely refused to comb itself into some semblance of order. He scowled, and then grinned, flattening his hair absently with one hand. Yep, Hogwarts was definitely not ready for him and Fred to hit the corridors again.

This accomplished, he glanced into his messy bedroom, where his trunk was waiting expectantly for departure, and then thundered downstairs into the kitchen where his mother, Ginny, was poking at a pan on the cooker, red hair messily tied back from her face.

"Now I know what Mum went through every year." She muttered. And, raising her voice- "Harry, I think the bacon's burnt. You don't mind cereal, do you?"

"I already ate. Sorry, love, I don't have absolute faith in your cooking skills." His father replied, peering over the top of the Daily Prophet, and then raising it to eye level again. "Honestly, the things Pansy Parkinson writes...I swear, she's worse than Rita Skeeter, and I was over the moon when she retired..."

"I came close to punching her several times when she was at Hogwarts." Ginny muttered, wielding the spatula like a sword as she attacked the hopelessly charred breakfast. "I'm so glad she never married..."

"Hey Dad. Mum, bacon smells delicious!" James said cheerfully, flinging himself into the nearest chair with a bang. "How's life?"

"You're very cheerful today." Ginny said from the hob, waving her wand and banishing the bacon to food-limbo. "And the bacon's gone, by the way. You'll have to do with those weird Muggle cereals that you like so much."

"Fine by me. When are we leaving?" James asked casually, sticking his hand into his jeans pocket and feeling the smooth wooden outline of his wand. Honestly, a summer without magic had just about been too much. The amount of times he'd been tempted to hex Al, or curse those annoying Muggles next door into jelly... He promised himself a good jinxing spree as soon as he set foot on the Express. He deserved it, he thought, reaching for the cereal box. He'd been cooped up for the whole of the summer, and he was definitely looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts and seeing Fred. Also, Alice and Catrin, but they were kind-of side friends...bonded by adventure. And adventure was quite possibly the best phrase to use concerning their first year at Hogwarts, in which they had faced down a crazed Death Eater, who was now languishing in Intensive Care in St Mungos.

"As soon as we get the post. Oh, and sweetie, I'm meeting Luna at the Leaky Cauldron for a Butterbeer afterwards." Ginny sighed, bringing James back to the present with a jolt. She ran fingers through her flaming hair and summoned the luggage downstairs with a flick of her wand, before leaning against the dresser and wiping her forehead.

"Yeah, yeah..." said Sweetie absentmindedly, scratching his head with a broken shard of quill. "I'll probably go with Ron to Fortescue's."

Just then, Lily banged down the stairs, hair flying in a fiery corona around her head. "Mum!" She yelled, stumbling on her dressing gown and banging into the walls. "Mum, Splodge has gone again."

"Oh, no..." Ginny sighed at the mention of the bedraggled tabby tomcat. "I don't know why we got that animal. Honestly, once it dies, I'm getting a dog."

"Don't say that!" James called from the worksurface, spraying cereal everywhere. "And Lil, mind my Nimbus!"

A muffled suggestion as to where he could stick his Nimbus floated down the corridor after them.

"Well, better get going." Harry sighed, straightening his glasses and pushing the chair back with a scream against the tiled floor. "I don't suppose I need to remind you to look after Al when he's at Hogwarts?"

"You tell me every five minutes, Dad. I'm not going to be his devoted nursey-pie for the whole year!"

James exclaimed as his father got up to go and hunt down Splodge.

Just then, the post arrived with a resounding _bang. _James choked on a mouthful of cereal, swore under his breath (because it made him feel cool) and made his way over to the fireplace. Lying there in a slightly smouldering pile of ash was not Strix, their screech owl- though he had habit of zooming down the chimney, for some reason- but instead a thick parchment envelope, with the ends curled up slightly from the heat.

James prodded it cautiously- it was cool to the touch- and then picked it up. Written in thick, copperplate script across the front were the words _To Harry and James Potter._

James glanced around hastily; his dad was not there. Should he wait? No. The prospect was far too intriguing for that. Quickly tearing open the thick cover, he reached inside and unfolded a single sheet of parchment. Flipping it open, his eyes roved across the page- and then opened wide in confusion.

_I know about what happened in Hogwarts last year. _

_I know that Death Eaters are on the loose; and it's your fault._

_Don't expect this to remain silent for long._

Questions exploded in James' head as he scanned the text; what was this? Blackmail? There was no money involved, though. A power play? Instinctively, his fist clenched, crumpling up the parchment with a dry rasping. He couldn't let anyone else know about this.

"James? Love, are you coming?"

"We could leave him behind..."

"Albus!"

James gave the wad a last guilty glance, and then shoved it deep into his pocket, along with the map and the wand. He'd show it to Fred and Benedict later, and maybe Catrin, if she was lucky enough.

"Yeah, yeah!" He shouted, going over to pick up his suitcase. "Next stop, Hogwarts!"

With any luck, that would be the last they'd hear from the mysterious mailer, although James had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't be.

He just hoped nothing too incriminating would come to light.


	2. Trouble on the Express

**Here's another chapter for you. Just going to say: Happy Jubilee everyone! God bless Her Maj :') Anyway...enjoy! Read and Review.  
**

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was absolutely jam-packed. James navigated his way through the crushing throng with all the ease of someone who had already done this before, soon leaving the rest of his family behind to say their hellos to the Weasley family. He'd go and say hi to Hugo and Rose, though- next to Fred, they were his favourite cousins.

Speaking of which...

"Hey, you!" He spun around to see Fred Weasley waving at him, coppery hair framing a mischievous (and freckle-spattered) face. James grinned back happily- his best friend was here. Now the year could begin properly.

"Hi! How are you? I haven't seen you for ages! Help me with this trunk, will you?"

Together, they heaved James' packed luggage on board, stowing it on the rack in an empty compartment along with his new Nimbus 2500. James felt a stab of satisfaction at his friend's envious sigh upon seeing the broom.

"Top of the range." He said proudly. "Birthday present from Dad- he says I'd better get into the school team, now."

"You trying out for the Quidditch team, then?" Fred asked, running a hand through his curly mop. Both boys were avid Quidditch fans, and James never grew tired of hearing about Ginny's and Harry's hair-raising Quidditch stories, especially as Ginny had once been a professional player herself. "I told Dad that I wanted to be a Beater, and he almost shouted at me. Said no son of his would ever be a Quidditch player, much less a Beater, blah blah blah...I've been practising all summer, too!"

James frowned sympathetically. He wanted to be either a Seeker or a Chaser, himself- beating was for those with slightly less brains and slightly more brawn, in his humble opinion.

"Ah, well." He sighed. And, brightening up- "Hey, I've got something absolutely awesome to show you guys. I pinched it from Dad's office...don't tell him I said that."

"Stooping to new lows? I'd never expected it of you...actually, that's a lie." Both boys turned at the lilting tone, James with the smallest amount of trepidation, and saw Catrin Jones leaning against the doorway, grinning at them.

"Jones!" James exclaimed, putting on his cockiest smile to hide his brief nervousness. In his opinion, Catrin Jones was four foot two inches of curly haired, grey eyed unpredictability, with an annoyingly appealing Welsh accent thrown in on top. She'd been with him and Fred in the Room of Reflections earlier that year and- to his eternal shame- had managed to both make his pencil case attack him and insult his friend, Benedict Umbridge, in a way that had made him laugh. This, and the background that she kept frustratingly mum about combined to make her someone that made James feel insecure and, at the same time, weirdly at ease.

Being in a life and death situation together probably did that to a person.

"You doing alright?" She asked now, grinning at them. "I was looking for somewhere to stow my luggage. This seems fine." She dragged her own trunk into view, and scowled at the two boys.

"Help, please?"

James had quickly recovered his wits. "I'll do it for a kiss."

"Get a grip!" She laughed, before whipping out her wand. "So much for chivalry. _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The trunk floated gently up into the luggage rack, and Catrin turned to grin triumphantly at them.

"Showing off?" Fred asked, shaking his head. "Shocking."

"Indeed." She said solemnly. "I'd better go and say goodbye to Hestia- before she finds out about the cat I didn't tell her I bought."

Just then, from the luggage rack, came a cautious meow. Catrin glanced up nervously. "_Tawel_, Bryn!" Then she fairly sprinted down the corridor towards the platform.

Fred glanced at James. "Confusing, isn't she?"

James shrugged. "I don't know much about her, except that she packs a powerful right hook." He stood on the seat and peered up into the luggage rack. A pair of sulphur-yellow eyes stared uncompromisingly back at him. "I already don't like you." He muttered to the owner of the eyes, before dropping down to the floor quickly. "I'd better go and say bye to Mum and Dad. See you later!"

James made his way down the corridor after Catrin. Just then, by the window, he caught a flash of electric blue- or, more accurately, the colour of Teddy Lupin's hair. Teddy had left last year, but it was lovely that he'd come to see them off. Grinning, James jumped onto the platform and made his way towards them, only to be confronted with the back of Victoire Weasley's strawberry blonde head. She looked rather absorbed in what she was doing, so James edged around her to better look for Teddy, and-

"Merlin's beard!"

The two broke apart- a feat in itself, judging by the way they were wrapped around each other. James goggled at them, unaffected even by Teddy's most poisonous glare, as they stared down at him. Victoire raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in a dangerous sort of way.

"What are you doing?" James blurted out, before deciding to go the whole hog and grin cheekily at them. Teddy's face went a pleasing shade of puce in response.

"I," he said, with considerable dignity, "am saying goodbye to Victoire."

"Looks like it." James sniggered. "You're _snogging _her!"  
Teddy- and Victoire- flushed even further.

"Go away, James!"

James smirked, and then saw that the former looked very ready to curse him. In fact, his hand was drifting ominously towards the pocket where he kept his wand. James had to content himself with a last snigger, and another gleeful "You are, aren't you? Snogging! Hah!", and then he sprinted down the platform to find his parents, bursting with this momentous news. Snogging was one thing, but in full view of everyone? Disgusting! You'd never catch him doing it, that was for sure.

He spotted his parents near the barrier, and made his way over to them, attracting their attention with a "Hey!"

James divulged his information at top speed, and was more than disappointed to see their laid-back reactions to the whole thing. "_Our _Teddy!" He said, urging his parents to react. "_Teddy Lupin_! Snogging _our _Victoire, _our_ cousin! And I asked Teddy what he was doing-"

"You interrupted them? You are so like Ron." His mother said, shaking her flaming her in despair, but James was not going to be distracted.

"-and he said he'd come to see her off! And then he told me to go away. He's _snogging _her!"

This, sadly, did not produce the desired results, only a whisper from Lily that it 'would be lovely if they got married'. James ruffled his hair somewhat violently with frustration, until he caught the magic words 'invite him to live with us and be done with it.'

"Yeah!" He said, immediately distracted and thinking of the ensuing chaos with enthusiasm. "I don't mind sharing with Al- Teddy can have my room!"

Or Al's room.

Harry's refusal only put him off slightly- he'd get round his father somehow. He'd better get on the train soon, though. He shrugged off Ginny's entreaties to see Professor Longbottom. Being a cool teacher was all very well, but he was still a _teacher. _And you didn't talk to teachers unless you _absolutely_ had to. Accepting her hug with a martyred expression, he gave his dad a quick grin, and turned to leave, glancing over his shoulder as he headed back down to his compartment. "See you later Al. Watch out for the _Thestrals..._"

His brother's dismayed cries followed him back up the platform. Chuckling, James slipped back inside the train and made his way back to the compartment, where Fred, Catrin, that Jordan girl, and Alice were sitting, along with another boy. This one had curly hair, and a rather flat face, giving him an odd, toadlike look. He gave off an air of smugness, and didn't seem to notice the filthy glances Catrin was casting his way- their enmity, like Teddy and Victoire's attraction, was common knowledge.

James, meanwhile, was pleased to see him. Ugly though he might be, self-obsessed though he certainly was, Benedict Umbridge was an excellent prankster- although James had put off telling his dad about him, because something caused him to suspect that Harry Potter might not take to 'Slimy Creep' as much as his son had.

"Benedict!" James said, pleased. "How are you?"

He ignored Catrin's muttered 'intolerable as always' and Fred's eye-roll. Benedict stood up pompously. "I am well, thank you. Are you ready for another year at Hogwarts?"  
"You bet." James said with relish, as the train lurched into motion with a squealing sound. He looked out of the window and waved to his parents'- and Lily's- smiling faces, and then, as the grey houses of London started to flash by, produced an Exploding Snap packet from his back pocket.

"Who wants to play?"

The journey passed extremely quickly thanks to Exploding Snap and some good old-fashioned talking. Although he and Fred had seen each other often during the summer holidays for bouts of Quidditch with their other cousins, they hadn't seen any of the others. Benedict, it transpired, had been to America with his parents, and, from what James could make of it, had complained the entire time. The Jordan girl- Mary- had helped her father- and Fred's- in the joke shop that George Weasley owned; Alice's family had packed up their home in the Three Broomsticks for a month and gone on an expedition with the Lovegoods and their two young twin sons. They hadn't found any Crumple Horned Snorkaks, whatever they were. Catrin, it seemed, had been settling in with her Aunt's family. She didn't say much about it- James didn't even know why she had needed to be adopted in the first place- but he reasoned it didn't really matter, since they spent more time at Hogwarts than at home these days.

About halfway through the trip, the girls left for a toilet stop- why they all had to go together was a mystery to James- and he seized his chance, drawing out the map he'd taken from Harry Potter's office.

"Look! I- ahem- found it in Dad's office."

"What- in the name of Merlin's fluorescent beard hair clippings...is this a _moving _map of Hogwarts?" Fred breathed, sounding awestruck.

"Yup."

"We...can do _anything_ with this map! Take over Hogwarts and rule from on high!" Fred was getting carried away, but James could hardly blame him. "We could set up a teacher trap- and _actually _prank whoever we want to, not just hope that we get the right person!"

He turned to James, an awestruck expression on his face. "Your dad...is a genius!"

Slimy Creep- ahem, Ben- jumped up in excitement-and then hit his head violently on the luggage rack. "My broom!" James yelped. Swearwords and luggage cascaded around them- including an extremely irate tabby with sulphur-yellow eyes. All three boys went very still as it surveyed them regally. Fred reached slowly for the open cat basket.

This was war.

Which was soon brought to a violent end when Benedict did a spectacular flying tackle across the compartment, scooping up the cat. Many scratches and swear words ensued before they bundled the irate cat back into the wicker basket. The opposing parties glared at each other, both nursing injuries.

That was when they heard rapid footsteps along the corridor.

"Quick, quick!" The cat basket was chucked back onto the luggage rack, accompanied by a strangled screech, and the rest of the luggage followed. James nervously wiped a trickle of blood from a scratch on the eyebrow and glanced at the others. Fred was sporting several arm wounds, matching the thin white line he had gained last year from Lestrange. Benedict had the worst injuries due to his heroic stunt, with a thoroughly ripped sweater. He looked like he'd come off worst in a fight with a cactus.

It wasn't Catrin who burst through the compartment, though: it was Albus, flushed and panting, hair tousled and green eyes wide with panic. And with bruises of his own. He slammed the door so hard the glass cracked, and leant against it, panting.

"Al?" James asked, nonplussed. "What's wrong?"

It took several breaths before he could gather enough breath to speak. "Met some...Hufflepuffs...on the corridor. I...accidentally...tripped one up...and then I laughed! They...weren't too happy so I...ran off. They're...following me!"  
Right on cue, two burly fifth year Hufflepuffs shouldered their way into view, spotted Albus, and swept open the compartment door. The window groaned ominously.

"Problem, boys?" James asked lightly, surreptitiously reaching for his wand. He scanned the group and inwardly swallowed- brawny and tall, they looked rather like half-giants to him. One of them had a rather impressive duelling scar on his forehead beneath a crew-cut. Hopefully that meant he was bad at defending himself.

"Yeah. Little idiot. Nobody insults Philip Belby and gets away with it!"

Why did Albus have to pick the guy most likely to have a mental instability? James almost groaned- and caught himself just in time.

"Well, he didn't mean it." Fred pointed out. "I'm sure that if Al said sorry, then you could _go."_

"_Sorry_!" Al squeaked, causing a wave of protectiveness to flood James. They'd touch his brother over his dead body!

"Now you can go!" He exclaimed, noticing that Ben had slunk into the shadows and was trying not to be noticed.

Was it his imagination, or did they suddenly look at lot more menacing?

"Hey! Back off my cousin!" The boys jumped and peered around to see Louis Weasley's blue eyes glaring daggers at the Hufflepuffs, wand in hand. As handsome as his sister was beautiful, he nevertheless was a skilled duellist, and a fifth-year himself. James grinned, suddenly feeling more confident. Back up!

"I heard that a pair of half-trolls were attending Hogwarts...but I didn't believe it until now." Louis scratched his chin with some mock-thoughfulness, and a lot of the reckless Weasley spirit. "Or maybe you got on the wrong side of a punch? Apologies for that, my friend. I'd have done it sooner, if I could."

The two sides squared up to each other. James mentally reviewed all the hexes and jinxes he'd learnt from his parents. Just when it was shaping up to look like a really good fight, the train jerked and groaned to a stop. They had arrived at Hogsmeade, and in the nick of time.


	3. The Feast

**Here we go, then. Chapter numero trois. Enjoy, peoples! Oh, and I forgot to put a disclaimer. Does it matter? Everyone can tell I'm not JK...just a fan ;)**

"I won't forget this." Belby's words rang in James' ears as he made his way off the platform, swept along in the current of Hogwarts students. The words sounded cliché, yes, but when you coupled them with the monstrous physique of the two Hufflepuffs, it suddenly became a whole lot less amusing. Weren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be hardworking and honest? Well, Belby was certainly honest about his intentions to work hard to get back at James and his friends. Hmm...

Oh well, it could have been an awful lot worse-or better. James had been _this close _to a battle before the train stopped, and he'd been dying to practise his new Jelly-Legs Jinx on someone!

"What's all this about a fight, then?" James jumped as Catrin bobbed up at his elbow, grey eyes fixing themselves onto his. He sighed.

"Nothing. Al got himself into a bit of trouble by tripping up the spawn of Fridwulfa the giantess, and then laughing at them."

"Fair enough. I like him already!" She grinned enthusiastically, brandishing her wand. Ahead of them, an unsuspecting fourth year yelped as his hair morphed into grass, and she grimaced guiltily. "Oops."

"Your cat is devil spawn, by the way." James commented lightly as they reached the carriages. "We had a run in with it on the train."  
"_You, _Mr Potter, are devil spawn. Bryn's lovely...and unique. Well, she's unique." She cast an eye over James' oozing scabs and winced. "Though I'm guessing that wasn't Slimy- Umbridges'- doing. He's not a berserker, but he is a coward."

"No, Slimy Umbridge didn't do that." James forewent indignation for the opportunity to rib her. Then he was distracted by their supposed transport. "Don't carriages generally have to have horses attached to them?" frowned at the weather-beaten convey awaiting them. Was this supposed to take them to the castle?

"They do." Catrin's voice sounded next to him, surprised. "Though they aren't horses...they look a bit weird...I don't think Hagrid's feeding them enough. They're like skeletons."

"What?" Confused- and annoyed that Catrin could see something he couldn't- James stuck his hand between the traces of the nearest carriage- and recoiled as his fingers brushed something smooth and velvety and horribly like skin. "Merlin's..." He trailed off, unable to formulate an inventive-enough swearword.

"On the carriages!" Hagrid boomed behind them as he led the first years away towards the lake for their traditional entrance. James waved at him- and at a pasty-faced Al, and then scurried after Catrin into the camped, smelly confines of the last carriage. With a bump, the wheels jerked into motion.

"So, how was your summer?" He asked casually, after a quick glance around the carriage to check for friends- or enemies. Catrin sighed.

"Oh, it was alright. They were all very nice to me...but...I don't know. Old habits die hard, I guess." She shrugged ruefully.

Intrigued, James leaned forwards, trying not to sound too much like a psychiatrist. "Old habits?"

"Oh, erm...I saved all Hestia's pocket money and transferred it into Muggle money at Gringotts. Just in case I ever had to...leave." There was a confiding tone to her voice- this was as brutally frank as Catrin got, but James knew her well enough to sense that she wasn't going to say any more- he could see a shutter closing behind her stormy eyes, shutting out her thoughts. He could read between the lines well enough, though-what kind of an upbringing made someone prepare to run away just when they'd settled in with a new family?

Should he find out more? Dad had always said that he was incurably nosy, and James liked to think he'd gotten it from Harry, especially considering the scrapes _he'd _gotten up to in his time at Hogwarts.

Actually, James, thought, considering her skill in what wizards tactfully called 'muggle duelling', he'd best just try and find out in his own time and not ask any direct questions. He still recalled with painful ease the time he'd tried to prove that fighting without wands was useless, only to end up on the floor with one arm twisted behind his back.

The Great Hall looked as splendid as ever in the light of a thousand glimmering candles. James, reunited with Fred, let out an involuntary sigh of something rather like happiness as he glimpsed the familiar star-strewn ceiling, clear and brilliant above the heads of the students. Professor McGonagall, looking rather the same as she had done last yearsat resplendent on the dais- in fact, looking the same as she always did. Harry swore she hadn't changed a jot since she'd been head of Gryffindor house. James waved to her cheekily, and was rewarded with a twitch in the corner of her mouth.

The familiar din washed over him and he took his place at the Gryffindor table next to Fred, near to the muggleborn girl whose name he still couldn't remember, Alice, Louis and Victoire. Together, they waited expectantly for the deputy to bring in the first-years, letting the Sorting begin. Sure enough, the door to the antechamber creaked open and in strode Professor Longbottom with a group of extremely silent students, who only grew greener as the whole school leaned forwards to make their inspections.

With an air of ceremony, Longbottom withdrew what looked like an old, tattered piece of leather from his pocket and placed it on the three-legged stool directly in front of the teacher's table. There was an expectant hush.

Then the Sorting Hat's mouth opened wide as it began to sing:

_Though nineteen years it has since been_

_Since Voldemort was killed_

_Dangers are coming again, once more_

_Returning with their chill_

_Chill of battle, chill of death_

_Chill of loved ones lost_

_And though we have won once before_

_My friends, at what cost?_

_So now unite the houses four_

_Let divide and schism rule no more_

_For what does it matter what you're in _

_Between Hufflepuff and Slytherin?_

_Or wise and canny Ravenclaw_

_Should it compete with Gryffindor?_

_No! My friends, all are fair_

_A way to celebrate, not compare_

_To fight together, with your friends_

_Is, without doubt, more  
_

_Important than to what ends._

_So today although I split you all_

_Do not divide between yourselves_

_And refuse friendship's call:_

_For Hogwarts as old as the ground_

_And together we must stand!_

The Hall burst into tumultuous cheers, interspersed with whisperings like the droning of bees.

"What was that all about?" Fred whispered to James, who shrugged, wearing his friends' puzzled expression. Of course Voldemort was dead- the older generation were the only ones who used his name fearfully nowadays; the children who had not experienced the Wizarding Wars used it freely. James had heard enough of his father's stories not to question _why _he had been so feared, but the whole point of everything was that he'd been defeated! The sight of Dawlish's, the ex-Auror's, fist clenched and face drawn, as well as the Hat's ominous plea for unity were threatening, yes, but even Voldemort couldn't come back from the dead. End of story. But could that letter have anything to do with anything? James felt a chill run up his arms- he hadn't told anyone about that particular bombshell yet...

McGonagall seemed unaffected by the tense atmosphere among the teachers, and nodded to Neville to proceed with the Sorting. He stepped forwards and unrolled the list of names, and the game was on.

As the list ticked by- Gryffindor, Slytherin, Slytherin, Hufflepuff... James watched his brother advance farther and farther to the front of the line, and fondly remembered his own sorting. He'd never been that terrified...or as terrified, anyway. It was doubly hard watching his brother get sorted.

Finally, Longbottom called 'Potter, Albus' and his brother lurched to the stool, looking distinctly vomit-coloured. James swallowed in sympathy as the hat dropped over his brother's vivid eyes and unruly hair- so like his own.

There was an expectant hush. James suddenly became aware of the pulse pounding in his throat as he took in what he could see of his brother's face, lips moving in a silent plea. He suddenly wished that he hadn't teased Al so much about being in Slytherin.

The rip at the brim of the Sorting Hat opened.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

James almost buckled with relief as the Hat yelled its verdict out to the Hall, and stood up with Fred to yell with the best of them something along the lines of 'We got Potter!'

He watched as his brother pulled off the hat with shaking fingers and handed it to Longbottom, and then started towards the table, from which tumultuous cheers were echoing. He also noticed- almost against his will- that although Albus' face was blank with shock, there was also a kind of relief there.

"Tough luck, mate." Fred gave him a sympathetic nudge underlined by a cheeky grin. "But Al'll be happy in Gryffindor. You know how he's always got his nose stuck in some kind of trouble."

"Yeah...I guess I'll just have to put up with him!" Secretly, though, James was just as relieved as his little brother. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"Ah well, he won't break the mould! Honestly, there are too many of us in this house." Victoire declared, tossing her magnificent mane and causing several starstruck boys to nod dreamily in agreement with whatever word came from her mouth to the sniggers of her friend Polly Wood.

James didn't say anything else, but watched the rest of the sorting pass in triumph. When the last of the names had been read out by a relieved Longbottom, the Headmistress stood up and the room fell into a hush where the different houses reflected on the new stock they'd accumulated.

McGonagall stood up and raised her goblet to the hall. It glinted like it had just been newly-minted in the light from the candles. "Welcome, everyone, new and old!" She declared. "Hopefully this year will be yet another feat of learning, and that you students will retain something useful for once in those heads of yours. May I remind you that Mr Filch and Mr Boot have amended the list of forbidden items, so if those of you who are rather too...enthusiastic...with your wish to avoid detention, I suggest you take a look. The Forbidden Forest is still out of bounds to all students except for those unaccompanied by the gamekeeper, Hagrid-"- here she waved a careless hand towards the gargantuan silhouette of Hagrid slouched in his chair. He waved cheerily- "-and that severe rule-breaking can lead to expulsion. May I also ask you to refrain from sending letters to your parents for a week or so- any post is strictly forbidden at the moment. Thank you."

And ignoring the fresh bout of whispering which was doing its round of the hall again, she sat down, and gestured for the feast to begin.

The food materialised on the plates in front of them, and James dug in savagely, surprised at his own hunger. Maybe it was shock, maybe not.

All around him- when he returned his attention to the conversation- people were gossiping about McGonagall's strange 'request'.

"All owls stopped? How'm I going to tell Mum what house I got into?" Complained a scrawny blonde first-year from a little down the table.

"That is weird, isn't it?" Louis asked through a mouthful of chicken. "No post? I wonder what crazy stunt the Ministry's trying to pull now."

"Maybe they think that owls carry disease."

"If the droppings land in your food they do." Everyone pulled a face at Fred's suggestion, including James.

"Maybe the answer's in the Owlery." Alice widened her eyes spookily. "The secret to mass-destruction."

"Mmm." James said absently. He glanced down the table to where the first years were sitting, rabbit-like in face of the curious stares of their fellow students, and saw Al's wide eyes staring back at him. He waved, and saw his brother's face relax into a grin.

The talk turned to other things during the meal, including the Quidditch tryouts.

"Who's going to be Captain this year, then?" The muggleborn- Valerian?-Valerie asked, eyes wide. "'Cos old Teddy left last year, didn't he?"

"Yeah...I bet it's going to be Smith's son." Fred said seriously, twizzling his fork around and around in the spaghetti.

"What? Zacharias Smith's? Montague? No! He's a weasel." Polly protested, along with Valerie.

"He's inherited his grandma's flying genes, though. Dorcas Meadowes was captain for Gryffindor for about three years."

"Hey- my father was captaining the team for about six years, and you don't see me zipping about on a broomstick!" Polly pointed out against Alice's comment.

"Yeah, but I'm going for Mary Bell." James said firmly, thinking about the last year of Quidditch matches he'd been to. "She's an excellent Chaser. I think I'm going to try out this year, too." He added, faux-casually.

If he expected shock and amazement, he was disappointed.

"Yeah. What position? I'm trying out too." Louis said, a sparkle in his eyes. "Don't steal my spot as Beater, you troublemaker!"

"As if." James snorted, whilst Victoire rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Chaser or Seeker. Dunno which."

"Yes, yes, we all know you're multitalented." Fred sighed as the puddings vanished, just as he reached out for another slice of chocolate gateau. He stood up quickly as Victoire called for 'first-years, come along please.' "Come on, let's go."

They left the hall quickly, walking unerringly through the castle shortcuts towards the Common Room. It was oddly silent in the castle, and James was in the mood to keep it that way. Peace before the chaos of the morning...

"Password?" The Fat Lady ruffled her pink skirts and glared at the boys.

"Fishbowl." Fred said promptly, and the Portrait Hole was revealed in all its stuffed-armchaired, fire-crackling glory.

It took less than ten minutes for the boys to climb into bed, and James, gazing at the veiled canopy of his four poster bed, felt a surge of anticipation at the coming year- _and _in the fact that his little brother had been sorted into, technically, the family house.

Let the mayhem begin.


	4. Quidditch and Quarrels

**Hello! Here is the next instalment. Read, enjoy, review! **

In fact, mayhem began at precisely 7.30 the next morning.

"JAMES! GET UP NOW!" Fred's voice sounded like a slightly more intense cannonblast next to James' head, causing him to yelp, jerked unpleasantly from a dream in which he was defeating a dragon by ramming dungbombs into its nose.

There was a slight pause, and then "I STOLE YOUR NEW BROOM AND CRASHED IT INTO THE WHOMPING WILLOW."

"_What!" _ That got him up in a hurry; pausing only to grab his wand from the bedside cabinet, James sprang up until he was standing on the mattress, glaring down at his –maybe ex- friend. Nothing woke him up faster than a threat to his baby. "You had better not have said what I just thought you said."

"No, it's okay. This was the best alarm clock I could think of." Fred rumpled his curls cheerfully. "Baby is fine."

"She'd better be." James lunged off the bed and checked underneath it. Sure enough, the broomstick was lying, gleaming and untouched in the dim light filtering through the windows. He patted it lovingly.

"Phew. Okay, I'm up. Breakfast...food."

Breakfast, was, of course, _the _most essential part of the day. James didn't understand how people functioned on only one bowl of cereal until lunch. A full breakfast artery-clogging calorie-bomb was required to wake him completely.

Dressing quickly, the two boys sauntered down to the Common Room, passing Louis and his friend, Tommy Abbot, as they did so. The two boys waved, and then Louis called them over. "Take a look at this!" He said, pointing to the noticeboard in front of them. "Prof. Dawlish wants to give defence lessons for any students interested- though he specifically stated it was _not _for namby-pamby duellists."

"Awesome!" Fred's eyes were wide as he scanned the lines of crabbed text. "When...two weeks on Tuesday. Put name down...blimey, he's quick off the mark. Lend me a quill?"

"Only if you put our names down too." Tommy said, fishing a battered, almost snapped plume out of his bag. James wrinkled his nose, and proceeded to scratch out their names, accompanied by lots of swearing as the ink ran all over the parchment.

"Okay. Let's go...I'm starving!" Fred practically dragged him out of the Common Room as soon as the task had been completed, leaving James to yell a quick farewell to his new friend.

Five minutes later saw them seated in the Great Hall, devouring a pile of eggs and bacon. From his quick glances up, James saw that ahead of them, Professor Longbottom was moving down the Gryffindor table, distributing their new timetables for the year.

"Morning!" Both of them looked up to see Catrin and Alice moving down the table towards them, cheerful grins on their faces. Behind them, Benedict was standing a little back and wearing a grumpy pout.

"Nothing like a bowl of porridge...Merlin's beard, how much have you got on that plate? Better wizards than you have tried to eat that much, and busted a gut." Catrin's eyebrows shot up- either in disbelief or horror. Alice, meanwhile, hid a grin behind her curtain of blonde hair.

"Breakfast makes you feel good. More breakfast means a happy James." James explained, using his best 'reasonable' voice. "You should see the amount my dad's cousin eats. Anyway, you signed up for Dawlish's non-duelling lessons?"

"Yup. Looking forward to some non-duelling." Alice smiled, as Professor Longbottom reached them. "Hi, Dad."

"Hey, Allie. Right, you lot." Professor Longbottom fixed them with his sternest gaze as he handed them their parchment timetables. "You've got Herbology first, so no fooling around, do you hear?"

"Wouldn't _dream_ of it, sir." Fred grinned his widest and most innocent grin at a sceptical teacher. "You _know _that we're model pupils."  
"In a monkey school, you would be." Longbottom muttered, before chuckling to himself, and moving on to tackle Ben, whose grumpiness hadn't abated and seemed to be because of the girls' presence. Sadly, at that moment, he put James in mind of a toad.

"Well, I'm off." Fred thankfully chose this moment to interrupt James' ruminating, by swinging his bag over his shoulder whilst shoving the last bit of bacon into his mouth. "Let's go. I'm in the mood to wrestle some kind of venomous plant."  
"Leave some for me!" James choked down his last bit of egg and leapt to his feet- and suppressed a groan as his breakfast sloshed around unpleasantly inside him. Not to be outdone by his friend's dramatic exit, he performed a mock bow."Duty calls. See you later, ladies." He winked at the girls, and noticed, to his surprise, that whilst Catrin grimaced, Alice flushed a delicate shade of pink.

Worriedly, he checked his shirt for leftover food- she could only be blushing because he was making an idiot out of himself- and decided to scarper before she could point out something in her quiet voice. "Wait, Fred!"

Herbology. Professor Longbottom frowned at them sternly over a row of what _looked_ like potted plants (James had learnt not to trust anything in the greenhouses). "Don't get too excited because you're in Greenhouse Three, for once. And, Potter-" James jumped in sudden fright as his name was called "-put _on _your earmuffs. I don't care if they're pink or fluffy!"  
"They clash with my hair." James muttered, but he put on the earmuffs, to titters from a couple of Ravenclaws. Everyone stared expectantly at the pots.

Professor Longbottom went over to the pots, grabbed an emerald-green shoot, and tugged hard. Everyone gasped as what looked like an obese baby lurched out of the soil, mouth open in an eternal scream. Several people gasped in revulsion-Fred actually staggered backwards, grimace fixed firmly in place.

The class stared, transfixed with gruesome fascination, as Longbottom calmly and methodically dumped the baby-thing into a new pot and dumped a load of dragon-dung compost on top, patting down on the top firmly before, finally, gesturing to the class to take off the embarrassing earmuffs.

"Right, these little blighters here are called Mandrakes." He said, gesturing to the covered _thing_.

"Don't take off your headgear when dealing with these- they won't kill you yet, but their cries will knock you out for several hours."

"Cool." Fred muttered.

"Don't say we'll be _dealing_ with those things?" The whole class turned around to see who had dissed the teacher. Macnair was glaring at Longbottom, surrounded by his posse of Slytherin friends.

"You'll be dealing with them, because I say so." The teacher's voice cut like a whip across the suddenly quiet greenhouse. The Slytherins cowered back slightly, and James snorted, ever so slightly.

Macnair's livid gaze snapped to his, and he narrowed his eyes like a snake- James stared back defiantly- before smiling painfully at the teacher. "Of _course_¸ sir."

The rest of the lesson passed relatively quietly- as far as screaming obese babies could be described as 'quiet'- and by the time the bell rang, he and Fred had successfully wrestled three Mandrakes into their pots. The last one stood empty in front of them as Longbottom appraised the class.

"Good work. Five points for every student. Off you go."

As James traipsed out of the classroom, his robe was suddenly caught and yanked to one side. Craning his neck around, he yelped involuntarily when he found himself staring into Macnair's bulging blue eyes, around an inch from his own. The other boy was about double James' width, and around 5 inches higher than him. All in all, he made for an imposing figure. And not one James wanted breathing heavily into his face.

"Hello trollboy...sorry, what was your name again?" Damn his smart mouth! Now Macnair was that much more likely to curse him.

"Listen to me, squirt." Macnair hissed into his face, spraying him with spittle. "Do _not _laugh at me. Do _not _make fun of me. Or there will be consequences."

"Ooh, scary." James mocked. "How many times did you practise that in the mirror? Been watching too many secret agent movies? Buck up your act, Macnair!"

The Slytherin's face flushed puce, and, holding James in one hand, plunged his hand into his pocket with the other. The flaw in the plan: James was quite literally in a headlock, and had no way of fighting back as Macnair cursed his sorry behind into oblivion.

Ooops.

Macnair had retrieved his wand and now was holding it threateningly an inch from James' nose. "Now...shall I start with your face? Or shall I just hex you?"

"I'm impressed any learning has sunk into your skull." James choked as the Slytherin tightened his grip.

"Cursing it is then."

He opened his mouth, but just then a fist flashed across James' line of vision, burying itself securely in Macnair's nose. Something cracked, and then rust-red blood started to ooze out of a nostril. He snarled and dropped the Gryffindor with a thunk. James scrambled backwards on the hard-packed ground and coughing, looked up at Fred, Catrin and that Slytherin guy- Malfoy- glaring at Macnair. Fred and Malfoy had their wands out; Catrin's fist was clenched and slightly reddened.

Macnair seemed to be weighing up his options; scowling like an axe-murderer, he stumbled backwards a few steps, clutching his nose. "Doo'll pay for dat, Budblood." He hissed through gritted teeth. "And doo- traitor!"

Malfoy flushed a delicate rose colour, but stood his ground. The other member of his house spat a bloody mouthful on the ground, and then beat a hasty retreat across the grounds and into the Castle.

"Hah! We showed him!" Fred crowed, punching the air in victory. "Did you see Catrin slug him across the face, James? His expression! He couldn't believe it!"

"That I'd stoop to muggle duelling." Catrin pulled a face, and then grinned at Malfoy. "Thanks for the tip-off, Scor. Any sooner and James would have been dragging his overblown head back to the Hospital Wing- and it didn't need any more inflating!"  
"Yeah." Malfoy- Scor- grimaced, and then his face relaxed into a grin. "You're lucky that Weasley saw him grab you."

James, still massaging his throat, pulled himself up with Fred's helping hand. Still slightly shocked, he surveyed the motley group, all of whom were wearing triumphant expressions. "Yeah- thanks, guys." He said uncertainly- the gratitude felt uncertain on his tongue. Normally, people were thanking _him _for saving _them._

"No problem." Scor smiled. "Actually, I'd better head off to Transfiguration. I think Macnair might be in the Hospital Wing for a while- fingers crossed!" And with that, he started back off towards the castle as well, leaving the others to stare after him, James in particular. Why would a _Slytherin _suddenly decide to help a Gryffindor? Was there something he was missing out on.

He turned to Catrin, who gave him an angelic smile.

"_Scor?"_

"Look, did you want saving or not?" She snapped, smile wiped off at his teasing. Back ruler-straight, she marched off after her- friend?

"What is it about that girl?" James hissed to the empty air. Fred shrugged. "She's a girl, mate. They're all that way."

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a blur of lessons, each one seemingly harder than the last. Whilst the students just wanted to soak up the last of the year's sunshine before the gloomy winter invaded, the teachers piled on the homework and had them practising complicated charmwork by night. Several times James and Fred were forced to stay up until unholy hours, cudgelling their soggy brains to remember the twelve uses of bezoars or how too little concentration whilst practising a charm could make it backfire onto them. To cap it all off, James had hardly any time to talk to his little brother and ask him how he was doing- was he coping? Not being bullied? Now that the post was banned, he was the closest person at Hogwarts that Al could talk to.

"I just don't understand how Professor Patil could make us write a _twenty-inch essay_ before next week! It's impossible...I have to draft this stuff out first!" Fred moaned, banging his head on his freshly-finished Defence Against the Dark Arts essay and getting the conclusion plastered backwards across his forehead.

"Yeah..." James said absently, trying to read his friends' head and then checking his watch. "Merlin's pantaloons! Quidditch trials are starting!"

Fred looked up suddenly. "You going?"  
"What do you take me for?" Was the enthusiastic response. "'Course I'm going! Are you?"

"Maybe..."

"Come _on_. The captain will spot your amazing talent from the ground. Just let me get my baby." James zoomed upstairs and practically dragged Fred- who was now frantically mopping his ink-stained skin- to the Quidditch field, where the Gryffindor hopefuls were waiting, where Alfie Smith- who apparently had made it to Captaincy- was presiding over the quivering crowd.

"Hey!" Mary Bell was standing in line just ahead of them, clutching her Lightning Flash 34. Her blue eyes softened as she took in James- and the soot-stained Fred. "Trying out?"

"I am, not sure if he is." James gestured towards his friend.

"If I can borrow your baby, then yes." Fred said, eyeing up the gleaming broom in his cousin's hands.

"Deal."

"Your what?" Mary asked interestedly, peering at the broom. "I thought it was a Nimbus."  
"Ahh." James blushed. "It is, but it's called Baby."

Beside him, Fred snickered in a very unloyal way.

"Ah, you've got the old broom out! You trying for the team, then?" Benedict Umbridge had managed to creep up on them and made Mary jump violently.

They looked around to see him looking very pleased with himself, accompanied by-

"A _Blur_?" James gasped, looking at the sleek broomstick in his friend's hands. Figures ran on autopilot through his mind. _Nought to two-hundred in four seconds, varnished with billywig wax, the all-new model of the original Firebolt racing broom. Cost? Priceless..._

"How did you manage to afford _that_?" Fred was unable to keep the awe out of his voice- James didn't blame him. They were all avid Quidditch fans here- if he or Mary had spoken, their exclamations would have contained the same amount of incredulity.

Ben shuffled, and gave a wide grin. "Does it matter? All that matters is that I'm going to get the position of Seeker on the team."

Just then, the whistle blew shrilly and everyone stopped talking, looking towards the swarthy figure of Smith, who grinned at them. "Right!" He bellowed, ignoring the mutterings of the crowd in the stands, who had come to watch the tryers-out suffer. "Divide yourselves into groups of five!"  
This didn't take long; there were only about fifteen people there. James found himself next to Mary, and Fred, who was pale and clutching one of the school brooms- which was mouldy and looked like the slightest bit of movement would blow it apart.

"Right!" Smith bellowed at their group. "At the count of three, fly once around the pitch and come into land! One...two...three!"

James kicked off, hard, against the ground, and felt the familiar magic as the broom came to life under his hands and the grass dropped away from underneath him.

For him, there was nothing but the wind ruffling its fingers in his hair, the cool evening breeze against his face and the joy of flying. There was nothing quite like it at all...

"James, look out!"


	5. Rescues and Owls

**There's some action in this one...enjoy! Read and review!**

James angled his broom straight down and dove swiftly, the acceleration plastering his hair flat against his head and making him squint into the wind until he grasped the wood and _heaved _upwards, muscles groaning as the broom complained about the treatment, unwilling to slow down.

"Sorry, Baby," He muttered, staring upwards to see what Fred had been shouting about. And then- "Merlin's birthday cake..." He muttered, watching what was clearly an out-of-control Blur bucking around the stadium an impressive speeds, rather like a rollercoaster which had decided to rebel against its ungrateful customers.

Benedict Umbridge had the broom, but didn't possess an ounce of the skill needed to control it. James watched, with more than a little satisfaction, as the broom morphed from world class flying standard to bucking bronco in a matter of milliseconds. Or maybe the world's first aerial dance routine...it was hard to tell. The performance was even accompanied with extremely unflattering donkey cross pig-like screaming, provided free-of-charge by the unfortunate passenger and the crowds in the stands.

"Boing...boing..."James muttered as Ben bounced spectacularly off the walls of the stands, before it hit him-a couple of seconds too late- that he was actually in very real danger. There was no-one there with advanced-enough magic to stop him if he fell, and half of the people on broomsticks were hopeless incompetents who couldn't catch a Quaffle even if it was raining them.

He glanced upwards at the group he just left- Mary and Fred were even now zooming down to join him- they'd spotted the problem as well.

"Come on!" He yelled as Ben just barely managed to turn his broom away from a full-on collision with the goal hoops. Together they streaked down the pitch, the wind pulling at James' hair like snatching fingers. As they neared him, Smith started screaming instructions like a demented piglet- unfortunately, he sounded like one too, and James didn't catch a single word he said. When he pulled out his wand however, James alarm and frustration boiled over.

As they passed him, he swept his broom around his a sharp arc, causing the tail end to knock the wand clean out of the captain's fingers. Smith uttered a very un-captain-like curse, and dove downwards to retrieve it whilst the other three - James roaring with laughter despite everything -made it to the other end of the pitch, Fred swearing like a sailor as he struggled to cope with the battered 'stupid piece of junk' school broom.

It was difficult to catch up with Benedict as he zig-zagged around the pitch. James found himself bobbing and weaving around on his Nimbus in an attempt to keep up with his manic flying. Fred and Mary circled below him, but it was hard because they never knew which way to go, and the Blur's fantastic speed made it hard for them to keep up.

Finally, however, Benedict managed to get his broom flying in a straight line down the pitch, and James seized his chance. Pulling up slightly behind him, he yelled across the two-metre gap.

"Ben!" Benedict flashed a terrified glance backwards, and then snapped his gaze forwards again, gripping the broom so tightly that his whole hand went white.

"Ben!" James roared. "Listen to me! You can't fly that broom- you're going to crash it!"

"No-"

"Don't be a prat! You _can't fly_! You've got to jump!"

"I can land it!" Ben found enough time between screaming and going green to looking affronted.

"Well you haven't yet! You're not Viktor Krum; you CAN'T!" James was ready to curse him in frustration. Why was he so arrogant- so _blind_? What had possessed him to try out for the team if he couldn't even fly?

"I can catch you!" James yelled across the divide, getting a rude hand gesture in return. He glanced forwards - and his heart stopped dead.

The stands were rushing up to meet them with such speed James was almost convinced that the wood was moving towards them. He could get out of there; Ben most definitely couldn't - and their exchange had only distracted him.

He was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

Gripping the handle of the broom, he accelerated again, coaxing the last few metres out of Baby until they were flying level - and then he smashed the broomstick sideways into Ben's leg.

No time for finesse here. He grabbed the screaming Umbridge, who was, he believed, threatening to curse his eyeballs into antennae; it was hard to be sure - and, grabbing him around the waist, heaved him sideways.

The stands were getting closer - he could make out the individual designs of badger, eagle, snake-

"Watch out!"

James braked.

The whole world jolted sickeningly as the broom fought desperately to slow down in time. The wood was getting closer, closer...James fought the desire to be sick-

The out-of-control Blur whipped between Ben's legs, possibly hitting an unfortunate area on the way through, judging by his opera-worthy scream-

James shut his eyes...

The broom stopped.

Slowly- extremely slowly- James cracked an eyelid open, and then gasped. They were literally a metre away from the smooth canvas wall of the stands, and he could make out the pattern of the grain on the wooden supports.

The Blur had smashed into the now-deserted stands, and splinters of broom and wood were everywhere, along with some twisted metal bits. James spared a moment to mourn the passing of the god of racing brooms, before turning his attention to the matter at hand.

Benedict was definitely not light - he was heavier than James, and the only reason that he was not red mush along with the broom was because of James' unfortunately intimate hand around his waist. The burden was not helped by the passenger's kicking and screaming, which was now going on an octave higher than it had been previously.

James, his arm screaming in raw pain, felt his grip beginning to slip, and redoubled his hold in panic as his muscles ignited. He couldn't let Ben fall!

"It's okay, Potter." Hands pulled Benedict away from James' death grip, leaving a blessedly light arm in its wake. Nursing his shoulder, James looked around gratefully to see Mary and Smith - with Fred struggling along in the background- holding Umbridge between them, who had ceased screaming and was now groaning something along the lines of "Are you angels? Heaven hath received my soul..."

"Potter." Smith began, and took a huge breath. His face was alarmingly red. James swallowed, running his hand nervously through his hair.

"Potter." He began again, slightly more composedly. "That was a stupid, foolish, amazingly reckless thing to do. Along with personal insult to the captain himself, you could have died..."

James hung his head, red now staining his own cheeks with a mixture of humiliation and hopelessness. He'd never get into the team now.

"...but it was a damn fine piece of flying." Smith concluded, rubbing his dark-stubbled cheeks thoughtfully. "And since flying is what we're about on this pitch...you just got yourself a place on the team."

* * *

"And then he said _what again_?" Al's eyes were wide as he surveyed his older brother with something approaching hero-worship. They were in the Common Room after the Quidditch training, and the glorious evening light was painting the tapestries a warm gold. The Common Room was pleasantly full- so people were naturally staring at James. The news had spread like wildfire around the castle.

"He said 'you just got yourself a place on the team.'" James stretched the words out with relish, grinning at the awe on Albus' face. "And then he saw how I flew, I made a coupl'a passes with the Quaffle and the Snitch, and he finally put me on the team as a Chaser."

The feeling that had coursed through his veins had been worth a million quid; the look on both Ben and Fred's faces had been worth a million more. And he just couldn't stop smiling!

"I'm kinda glad I didn't get onto the team." Fred said, ruffling his ginger hair ruefully. "Imagine the fuss that Dad would've made!"

"You'll get in next year." James said determinedly. "I'll give you special coaching 'till you make it."

"And me? Will you give me coaching too?" Al begged, his green eyes morphing into a puppy-dog expression.

"Yeah, yeah!" James laughed. "You can join me, Fred and Louis on the team."

Louis had made it onto the team as Beater, and James was now flying alongside Mary Bell and Smith as Chasers. The Keeper, a burly sixth-year named Jonathan Mirk, another Beater- Circe Coote (unusual, females weren't normally Beaters, and Circe looked more fragile than most) and the Seeker, who had surprisingly turned out to be Alice Longbottom, who didn't share her father's antipathy to broomsticks (the story of Professor Longbottom's first broomstick lesson had passed into Hogwarts legend) and had outflown all the competition with surprising ease.

"What's this I hear about Potter?" The boys turned around to find Alice, Mary and Catrin surveying them, just having passed through the portrait hole, surveying them.

"Only his amazing brilliance." James quipped, mirroring their body posture of hand-on-hip.

"He's just showing off." Fred interjected quickly.

"I am not! Well, maybe a bit..." James conceded.

"You told your story to almost everyone you saw on the way up- including that Hufflepuff girl who screamed because she thought you were trying to curse her." Fred pointed out.

"Oh, yeah..."

"Sounds like you." Catrin snorted.

"Sounds like you're jealous." James said casually. "By the way, well done Alice! That flying was amazing!"

He'd been expecting a reply- and he was _not _ready to deal with Alice's Silencing-Charm-esque quiet and brilliant blush. The silence stretched on awkwardly before she said quietly "Thanks."

"Er- you're welcome." James didn't really know what else to say. Was he really that embarrassing to talk to? Maybe his charisma wasn't all it was cracked up to be...

"Shall we go, Fred?" He asked quickly, dragging his friend off into the corner of the Common Room and sinking down onto a chair- only to spring up again with a curse as something fluffly wriggled underneath him , before sinking it's claws into him.

"Aargh!" Bryn, the devil-cat, clawed him twice more for good measure and then sprang off to join Catrin, before curling up on her lap as she sat down in front of the fire. "I hate that moggy." James muttered as he glared at the flickering flames. "What's up with Alice, anyway? Am I actually really embarrassing to be seen with in public? And where's Ben gone?"

After his (presumably humiliating) rescue from imminent death and destruction, Benedict was nowhere to be seen. He'd been to the Hospital Wing for a quick check-up but that had been three hours ago. Maybe he was just licking his wounds somewhere quiet. James didn't feel like going after him- his friend could be extremely snappy when in a bad mood.

"Search me." Fred said casually, stretching out his legs and then deliberately cracking his fingers, one by one, in a way that made a group of nearby fifth-year girls cringe. "Anyway, I was thinking- shall we give your Dad's map a test-run tonight?"

"Oh my god, yes!" James suddenly sat up much straighter in his chair. "Where shall we go?"

"Erm..." Fred scratched his chin in a wise-man-of-the-forest way. "To the Owlery? They say we can't deliver any post- why not?"

"Good point...let's do it!"

"Do what?" Albus' owl-eyes appeared behind them, giving James a mini-heart-attack. Clutching his chest he said with as much dignity as was possible, "Nothing."

"Then why do you look like Splodge when he's left a rat in Mum and Dad's bed?"

"...No reason!" Fred interjected quickly. "Now run along."

"No chance." Albus sat down suddenly. "I'm coming with you, or else I'm telling."  
"Who?" James scoffed, big brother role firmly in place.

"Catrin. She looks like she could kick your ass." Al folded his arms, and a staring competition commenced between the two boys.

"I'm not afraid of Catrin."

"I'll tell her then."

"No!" Fred's arm snapped out and grabbed Al's sleeve. Victory was easy to spot in his green eyes.

"I mean, fine. You're not coming with us." James crossed his arms. His younger brother frowned, and marched across the now-packed Common Room to speak to the owner of the devil-spawn. The boys got respective homework out of their bags and set about creating the picture of innocence.

When she came back to see them, Fred's head was bent in the Dragon Trials of 1567, whilst James was tackling a particularly difficult Transfiguration Theory of Magic essay.

"What's all this about sneaking out?" She said, lilting voice blunt.

"You going to stop us?" James sneered.

"No. I want to come with you!"

"_What_? No way!"  
"Yes, fine." Fred cut across James. He raised his eyebrows meaningfully and mouthed 'extra firepower'. "Whatever."

Catrin's grey eyes were suspicious. "You mean it?"

"Yeah. Wait till the Common Room's empty." Fred outlined their plan quickly and James –with a certain amount of resentment- watched both Catrin and Al's faces fill with excitement.

"Fine." He said sulkily.

The time passed quickly until there was nobody left in the Common Room except for the young Gryffindors, at about one in the morning. James slid the map out of his pocket, and marvelled again at the incredible help this would give. Filch and Boot were in their office, whilst Dawlish was pacing the seventh floor corridor.

"Let's go." He whispered, stretching and shaking Al gently. Catrin was already up and alert- did she ever sleep properly, or just cat nap? Again, he had to wonder about her past.

They stepped out of the Common Room, and James pulled out his map. Everyone's eyes went wide as they took it in.

"The Marauder's Map? Who are Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?"

"Dunno. Come on." Together, they crept through the almost deserted corridors, encountering nobody thanks to the Marauders. James made a mental note to ask his father who they were if-when- they got out of this.

The door of the Owlery soon appeared ahead, with, intriguingly, a large silver padlock on it. For someone else, it might have spelt danger, but for James- and judging by their expressions, the other Gryffindors- it spelt temptation and adventure. He glanced across at the gang. Al's eyes were wide with anticipation; Catrin was as tense as a clock spring beside him. He grinned at her, and was relieved to see her crooked smile in return.

"I've got this." Fred tapped the lock with his wand. "_Alohomora!_"

With a clinking noise which was too loud in the quiet of the night, the lock snapped open. Heart beating in his mouth, James leaned forward and pushed the door open.

It was dark and cold as a tomb inside, and smelt awful. Covering their noses with their mouths, the group pulled out their wands too, Al holding his awkwardly.

"Lumos." James whispered, holding the wood up high. The beam sparkled to life, spreading a pale golden pool across the room.

The light fell across piles of dead owls.


	6. A lot about Belby

**Hey. Here's a new chapter. Enjoy, review! (Last one especially, please! I'm keen to know your thoughts/ suggestions about the story). Cheers! :) **

"What in the name of Merlin's soggy banana brains..." breathed Fred, gazing at the small crumpled piles of feathers lying scattered about the room.

"_Duw yn y nefoedd..." _Catrin breathed, gently stretching out her fingers to stroke the plumy wing of one owl. "_Beth_...what's happened to them?"

"Fred?" James asked, looking to his friend. As he knew all too well, George Weasley's experiments in the name of pranking had given his son an uncannily good knowledge of first aid- but would it help in a slightly more feathery context?

Fred went forward and gently picked up an owl, eliciting a gasp from Al. Ignoring them, he then proceeded to examine it, checking the back of its neck and staring pupils for clues that James didn't have the slightest idea to look for. Finally he stepped backwards, eyes focussing themselves on the rest of the group.

"Its shock; spells or poison." He said grimly. "And definitely man-made."

"Who would do that?" Al breathed, gripping his wand for comfort.

"I don't know..." Silence fell, as the four considered. Deep, night-black silence that you only got in an old stone castle with almost all its occupants asleep...

Were those footsteps?

At exactly the same moment, James and Catrin glanced towards the door, and then at each other, eyes wide. James briefly shone his wand down at the map, glancing around for their destination and for whoever was coming towards them- and his heart stopped.

It was Dawlish, accompanied by- James mentally cursed his 'lucky' stars- none other than Troll-man supremo, Belby. Lucky, lucky them! At least they'd get ground into the floor before getting detention.

"Put your wands out!" Catrin hissed from across the room; she'd seen from James' expression that their visitors were not exactly welcome. The room instantly turned black-the kind of blackness that seems to have a weight as well as no colour. The footsteps got louder, echoing off the stone walls and floors.

James cast around in the dark, suddenly terrified. Where was everyone? Were they going to suffocate? God, they were going to get caught! He was sure that the walls were closing in...he'd almost rather face Belby than have to stay here a minute longer, next to a hundred little bodies. Did owls have ghosts?

"Link hands!" Al's hiss in James' ear almost made him yelp, as his brother's small hand crept into his. He took it gratefully, gripping tight as a clamp.

Al's hand then tugged, leading him out of the door and then down a side passage. He seemed to know where he was going; James let him lead. Anything that would take his mind off the crushing blackness...

A very small, annoyingly witty part of his brain told him that he was going to be humiliated beyond belief if- when- they got out of this.

The foursome crept down the passage blind _just _as the torch-like beams of magic filtered past in the corridor they'd just left. James saw the light illuminate the surrounding walls with a kind of dazed thankfulness, even if it was their enemies.

"...sure I saw- heard- someone moving around, sir." Belby's voice echoed loudly towards them. "Potter- maybe? He seems the type to break rules. He was involved in that Room of Requirement thing last year- and all those jokes he pulled-"

"Quiet, Belby!" Dawlish exclaimed. "Don't act like a..."

He trailed off.

James couldn't resist.

"Gorilla- you've got to break away from the family tradition." He heard Fred's muffled snigger and Catrin's hiss of dismay as the beams swung towards them. Al pulled him against the wall, just behind a suit of armour, as the whiteness swept over them, illuminating their escape route.

"Did I hear something?" Dawlish muttered.

"Doubtlessly." Belby's voice turned violently red- if voices could have such colours. "Shall we have a look?"

As the others started to break into a run so quiet it would have shamed a woodlouse, James tore his hand out of Al's. No point hiding now. They raced down the corridor, just ahead of the two older men, and when they reached a corner, James leaned out and bellowed "I am the ghost of part-trolls past...I shall return to give you a makeover someday!"

Well, to call him simply a brute was an insult to several thousand perfectly respectable thugs all over the world. He had to at least look quite a bit nicer to earn that title.

Belby's Stunner shot over his head as James tore around the corner, a laugh bubbling up infectiously inside him as he fought to keep his face straight and breathe at the same time.

He suspected that _that _particular facial expression made him look like a constipated ogre.

* * *

The group collapsed together on the sofa in the Common Room, breathing hard. It had been a frantic dash back to the Common Room, narrowly avoiding the two older men each time they turned a corner, but thanks to the map, they'd managed to navigate back home.

"That...was close." Fred panted, massaging his ribs. "D'you reckon...Belby knew we...were there?"

"Thanks...to Potter, he did!" Catrin said furiously- how did she still have enough breath left in her to be that angry? Al cowered slightly; James didn't blame him.

"S'alright...Al. Better...get to bed...or Dad'll kill me!" James said, giving his brother a way out, which he took, scampering up the stone staircase to his dormitory. Fred gave his friend an apologetic look, and then followed suit, leaving James alone with a very angry female.

"Why the _hell_ did you...do that?" Catrin demanded, smashing a fist against the soft fabric of the armrest. "You _twpsyn..._we could've been caught!"  
"Detention's not exactly a new thing for me, Jones." James replied frostily, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't think you were such a goody-two-shoes."

"Not _that_...we were in a _restricted _section! There's a good reason...McGonagall didn't want us there...now we know something we shouldn't!"  
"That's good!"  
"Depends on how you look at it. Whoever...killed the owls is going to know that someone knows about it! They might come after us!"

"It was probably those two- they're bird brained enough."

"Don't make jokes, Potter!"

"Me? Wouldn't dream of it."

"Argh!" Catrin punched the sofa again. James feared for the stuffing. "Why do you have to be so...so..."

"Handsome? I dunno, it just happened that way."

"No!" Catrin fixed him with her intense, stormy grey eyes. "You were petrified in that corridor. I could hear you having a mini-panic attack. And _just _when the danger's over, you go and ruin the whole thing!"

"I wasn't scared!" James fired up at once, a flaming blush scalding his cheeks. You never insulted a man's pride. It wasn't done.

"You were! Believe me, I've seen scared, and I've seen petrified on the- where I come from. You were practically wetting yourself!" Her voice softened slightly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of; I'm absolutely scared stiff of heights."

"I'm not scared! You sound like my mum. 'You need to get some glasses, James.' 'James, contacts would work just as well.'"

"I do not!"

"Shut up!" The two glanced around, startled, to see a groggy face peering through the entrance to the Girl's Dormitory. James thought recognised Peggy Dearborn through the mass of pink curlers, who was a- there was no other word for it- groupie, more often than not clinging to Montague Smith's arm like a limpet.

"Sorry." James whispered. "We'll kill each other in silence."  
"You'd better." Hissed Peggy, before stomping back upstairs. The dormitory door banged violently.

James slumped back into his chair, the wind suddenly vanishing from his sails leaving him feeling curiously deflated. "Fine. Yes, I'm terrified of small spaces. When I was little, there...was a building site near to our house. I went exploring there when I was- what, five, six? I was poking around, and then the ground kind of...gave way. I spent about five hours trapped between two of the walls until Mum found me. I still have a scar, look." He pulled back his sleeve to reveal a long jagged line, and felt a stab of satisfaction at the alarm in Catrin's eyes. "The year after that, Dad took me on the tube in London for the first time...and I screamed the place down. You should have heard me!" He gave a chuckle despite himself. "It was awful."

"It must have been."

James flicked a sideways glance up at Catrin to make sure that she wasn't mocking him. Her sympathetic smile told him that she wasn't. He felt curiously...weak? No, vulnerable. He hated opening up to people; he hated any kind of pity. People seeing how he really felt about things behind the quips and gibes...he didn't _need _it.

"Well, yeah." He said awkwardly, trying to cover it up again. "Doesn't matter. It's over. Anything else you want to know?" It came out less aggressively than he was going for.

"Umm...why don't you wear glasses if you need them?"

"Do I? It makes me look too much like Dad. I want to be different from him. You know, everyone knows about the 'famous Harry Potter'" James fingers sketched quotation marks in the air. "Anyway... it's really late. Better get to bed."He yawned and stretched theatrically. Catrin took the hint and got up, walking across the shadow-strewn Common Room. She paused at the entrance to the Girl's Dormitories, watching him like a hawk.  
"James...will you tell me about Sirius Black sometime?"

"_Sirius Black_?" Why did she want to know? He was sure he hadn't mentioned the name more than a couple of times last year. Hmm...the CatrinPlot thickens..."Yeah, fine."

"Okay. Thanks. See you! Don't keep staring at mugs too long!" She gave him a last, fleeting grin and headed up the staircase. James laughed as she invoked the phrase from their first year, feeling oddly lighter. He didn't feel like sleeping just yet, though, so stared at the ruby embers, eyes unseeing.

He stayed like that for a long time.

* * *

"James? Been drinking again? I keep telling you that firewhisky's bad for you- but (sigh) you seem addicted already."

"Gruuuuuugh?" The blackness gave way to a bleary view of a blue eye, at an alarming closeness to his face.

"Aargh!" James jumped up- and winced his head collided with something.

"Aargh!" Came the response.  
A pause. And then- "Aaargh!" They yelled in unison. James fell back- and to his alarm the floor pitched away from him and he was presented with a close up view of a foot.

"Shoe-licking? That's more like it. Respect."

"Urgh..." James rolled over and glared up at his cousin, who was wearing an extremely mischievous expression and clutching a reddened nose. "Louis!"

"Yeah. What are you doing on the floor- previously the sofa?"

"Umm..." James cudgelled his brain violently- and the previous night's activities came flooding back in a rush- breaking the sound barrier in an attempt to race to the Common Room, and then collapsing in a heap. "Aah."

"Yes, aah! Apparently _some students- _notice the sarcasm in my voice here, because you're much more like imps-broke into a Restricted Area last night and managed to escape detection. Belby- the Hufflepuff Prefect- has gone nuts trying to find out who it was. I suspect a certain demon-in-training."

"How dare you- I'm a fully fledged demon!" James retorted- and grimaced as he realised his mistake.

"So it was you. What's preventing me from turning you in right now?"

"My charm and loveability?" James offered hopefully, willing a halo to appear above his head as he smiled his most angelic smile.

Louis snorted. "Pull the other one! Correct me if I'm wrong, but were you not the one who poured Puffskein Grooming Lotion into my cereal and gave me blue spots as well as making me so active I torched the chicken coop?"

"Details, details. Anyway, Grandma forgave you once your burns healed." James waved an airy hand, before pulling himself up onto the sofa and smoothing his crumpled robes. "What's the time?"

"About an hour before breakfast. I got up earlier to do some Charms homework. Why?"

"Excellent. Just let me wake Fred...and Ben." James cracked his knuckles threatrically and winked at his cousin. "You won't turn me in just yet, because you're going to be curious to see what's going to happen at breakfast..."

Exactly forty-five minutes later, James and Fred entered the Great Hall in a rather dramatic fashion- that is, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak and straining to carry a massive golden platter between them. Fortunately, the Great Hall was virtually empty, apart from Terry Boot who was wielding a mop in a rather aggressive manner, and a lone Slytherin who was munching on a piece of toast. He was going to get quite a shock if he looked around.

"Come on!" James hissed. "Belby sits at the head of the table- like a 'King'." He checked the map; the small labelled dot named 'Philip Belby' moving towards the great hall, accompanied by his minion-dots. "Come on- he's nearly here!" Fred rolled his eyes as they struggled down to the head of the Hufflepuff table. James pulled out his wand, and hastily cleared away the other, more innocent, plates of bacon and kipper.

"Put it here!"

Panting, they placed the dish down, glanced around and then whisked it out from under the Cloak with a flourish. Now, sitting in prime position, was a large platter of heavenly-looking tiered sponge cake, which had admittedly been made with the help of some house elves James had ambushed earlier. Their eagerness to oblige had startled even him- although admittedly they didn't know what the boys planned to use it for.

With a pleased smile, James turned around- and instantly found himself eye-to-eye with the Slytherin- Scorpius Malfoy. James resisted the urge to sneer- he had helped to free him from Macnair's clutches. Malfoy was wide-eyed as he stared at the mystery of the Appearing Breakfast Cake. James crossed his fingers- and toes for good measure- as he willed him not to say anything.

Just then, an explosion of chattering announced Belby's arrival- James could tell it was him because of the way the Hufflepuff table started vibrating as he strode down towards his place.

There was nothing for it. James and Fred, cloak flapping alarmingly around their heels, sprinted for the Gryffindor table, sliding into position and stuffing the fabric up James' top as they did so. A smooth move, if he might say so himself.

Now all that they had to do was wait.

And they didn't have to wait long. As James occupied himself by inoffensively with buttering a slice of toast, Belby spotted the cake and honed in like a wasp. James spotted the bags under his eyes from a sleepless night and grinned to himself.

All that they had to do now was wait.


	7. Tricks and Trouble

Belby and his Hufflepuff cronies marched straight to the head of the table, guffawing and hitting each other like a group of extremely macho elephants. James swallowed a triumphant smile as they sat down in front of the table, looking like they'd discovered a treasure trove instead of a cake.

"Here." Fred muttered. James looked down to see that he was holding a pair of earplugs.

"Good thinking!"

"I'm full of...mumphmumph." Fred's answer was swallowed by the stuffy silence that accompanies wodging pieces of plastic in your ears. Muggles- what they did without magic was really quite impressive.

Tensed with anticipation, the boys watched as an Ultra Macho Man (UMM) laughed, slapped his friend's back with enough force to make James wince, and saw Belby, wearing a wide smile, stick his hand into the middle of the cake, intending to pull out a large slice.

What he pulled out instead was a Mandrake.

James had been wondering what they were going to do with the creature they'd nicked from Herbology. He'd also been wondering if Stunning it made any difference to the wailing.

It did.

The baby Mandrake screamed, and several glass decanters disintegrated on the spot, spilling pumpkin juice everywhere. The effect on the Hufflepuffs was electric: the hair of one shot straight up like he'd been using anti-gravity hair gel, and rapidly bleached itself of colour until it was bone white. The guy himself turned vivid purple. Another actually leapt in fright into the arms of another, and clung on for grim death, romantically almost throttling his less-than-willing carrier, who was buckling under the weight. He himself then noticed that the threads of his robes were disintegrating and screamed as well, in a remarkably girlish voice. He then dropped his friend in order to preserve his modesty.

Belby himself keeled over at top speed, mashing the Mandrake, a goblet and the cake with his forehead and splattering the Hufflepuffs with cake and plant bits (in the case of the shredded-clothing boy, this was actually quite fortunate). He was then squished as his ultra-macho buddy did a remarkably unmacho faint on top of him.

The Gryffindors were relatively sheltered from this distance, and the earplugs covered most of the sound. Still, this didn't stop Fred and James from howling with laughter, clutching their splitting sides. Whenever James stopped sniggering, an image Belby doing a face-plant into the confectionery popped into his mind again and set him off all over again.

When he finally straightened his face sufficiently, he dared to squint upwards at the Hufflepuff table and saw that two boys had fainted, Belby was still embracing his breakfast and one boy was lying on the ground, blowing purple bubbles and mumbling unintelligently to himself.

He then felt a tug on his sleeve and saw Fred motioning towards the entrance doors, through which Professors Merrythimble and McGonagall were striding, followed by Scorpius. That little rat! James thought indignantly. He'd sold them out!

But no—McGonagall, looking like an emerald green avenging angel, marched straight up the Hufflepuffs and knelt down next to the bubble-blowing boy, taking out her wand. A couple of complicated wand movements later, the bubbling stopped. She then stood up to stare around the hall, gaze raking across the tables like a laser beam.

"Come on!" Fred grabbed James' arm and tugged him out of the Hall, both of them walking as quickly as possible without actually running. As they left, James took out his earplugs and looked across to Malfoy, who met his eyes defiantly. Hazel eyes met grey ones; both narrowed.

Then Malfoy shrugged, and mouthed something across the room that James couldn't quite catch- damn his eyesight!

And then they were out of the Hall, and both boys collapsed against the stone archway, trying to muffle their giggles and not give the game away. "That was fantastic!" Fred gasped, wiping his streaming eyes. "Did you see the blond guy's face?"

"And the one who's clothes fell apart!" James choked. "The guy he dropped- he looked so _surprised_!"

Students were filtering through the doors to the Great Hall now, looking confusedly at the red faces of the boys as they attempted to pull off their 'innocent' faces.

"What's going on?" Benedict had appeared out of thin air at Fred's elbow, protuberant eyes wide. "They're saying some Hufflepuffs got attacked- was it the Death Eaters, do you reckon?"

At the loud mention of 'Death Eaters', several students looked alarmed, and practically sprinted into the Great Hall to find out what was going on.

"No, you nincompoop! It was us!" James said, bursting to tell his news. "You weren't there so we did it ourselves. We served Belby and his thugs a 'Mandrake Special' about five minutes ago. It was great! You should have seen their reactions! If only Malfoy hadn't sold us out! That weasel!"

"I don't think he did." Said Fred calmly. "Didn't you see what he mouthed?"  
"You know my eyesight's awful." James grumped. "Well, are you going to keep us in suspense all day? And I'm tired from running around last night, too!"

"He said 'I didn't tell her it was you.' Very civilised, huh?"

"Yurgh." James avoided the blow to his pride which the word 'yes' would cause. "Come on, we've got lessons. And Duelling Thing tonight with Dawlish. Going somewhere, Ben?"

For Benedict had backed away several steps towards the Grand Staircase, looking unquestionably shifty. When James spoke his name, he looked positively petrified, and stammered out "No...no! Just...I've got to go and...prune my books. Yes. See you!" This statement was followed by his madman's sprint up the Grand Staircase.

Fred looked at James. "Get the feeling that Ben's not telling us something?"

"Yep. That he's bought books which seem to need pruning, maybe? Maybe the books are branching out...that's funny, alright?"

* * *

The day flew past in a haze of triumph in which James and Fred barely concentrated on their lessons- in Potions James managed to blow up his Detox Draught and set fire to the store cupboard all in one, causing a class to stampede an unfortunable Merrythimble, whilst Fred Transfigured their teacher, Professor Patil's, hair into a gerbil and the entire lesson had to be halted in order to find and UnTransform the gerbil (which half the class had started calling Humphrey) by the end of the lesson. When he wasn't causing chaos, James was staring out of the window at the sun-splashed grounds covered in the last rays of autumn sunshine, daydreaming about even greater exploits.

The news about the Mandrake Attack had spread like only rumour can across the entire school by the end of breakfast and, although nobody knew for sure who had done it, last year's antics pointed the general finger of blame at James and Fred anyway. This earned them a mixture of admiring whispers from Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, and dirty looks from some Hufflepuffs and Slytherins who had known Belby personally. James didn't mind- in fact the constant staring was doing wonders for his ego.

Benedict had arrived shortly after the start of Charms, looking flushed and breathing hard, as though he'd just run across half of the school to get to the lesson. James strongly suspected that had something to do with the 'book pruning' and resolved to get to the bottom of _that _particular issue before the end of the term.

Their last lesson, Defence Against the Dark Arts, saw them both exchanging notes in whispers over the Owl Situation and what could to figure out who was behind that- obviously, after having pulled off a prank in full view of the teachers, convicting an owl-killer would be a piece of cake.

"Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention!"

Dawlish's irritated bark cracked across the classroom like a whip, causing both Fred and James to flinch and scrabble to hide their notes. Dalmatian-spotted with ink, they slowly turned to face their teacher who had, unbeknown to them, sneaked up the classroom until he was standing next to their row.

"Yes, sir?" Fred asked. "Is there anything wrong?"  
"Don't make me put you in what I hear is going to be your fourth detention for the day, boys. I doubt you were listening to my speech on Cornish Pixies." The Professor surveyed them menacingly over the top of his crooked, hawklike nose and scarred face. "Unless mine eyes deceive me, you were passing notes in class. Explain!"

James scrabbled around the inside of his head for an excuse...

"I...was...talking to Fred about how handsome you were, sir."

The whole class turned to stare at James as though he had announced that he was a plague carrier. Even Dawlish seemed stunned. "You were doing..._what_?"

James cursed his brain. No going back now! "Yeah. Erm...I was saying that your Auror days obviously haven't...marred your attractive appeal. So to speak. If I was a girl. Which...I'm not." He added hastily.

Even Fred was goggling at him by this point.

"Oh." Said Dawlish. Was it James' imagination, or did he stand up a tiny bit straighter at that point? Maybe they were going to get out of this...

"You've got some cheek, Potter. Double detention, Friday after dinner in my office."

Or maybe not. James sighed, and nodded gloomily. "Yes, sir." He really did dislike that man; what had he ever done to annoy him so much? _Idiot! _he shouted mentally at Dawlish's severe face.

Just then, the bell rang, and the class- those who weren't taking defensive lessons- stampeded out of the room enthusiastically, leaving James, Fred, Benedict, Catrin, Alice and a guy called Michael Thomas behind. Catrin raised her eyebrows at James and mouthed 'Really?' James sneered back at her.

The classroom door opened, and the rest of the non-duelling enthusiasts entered. Dawlish seemed to suppress a groan as he saw that Fred and James weren't leaving, and stalked to the front of the classroom. As he left, his cloak whipped behind him, and James suppressed a gasp as it flicked past his eyes: on it, there were several stands of feather, sticking to the bottom of the garment.

James' mind went into overdrive. He knew that Dawlish hadn't gone into the Owlery that night when they'd been there, as he'd followed them right up until a couple of corridors away from Gryffindor Tower. That must mean he'd gone in there some other time...was he somehow connected to the killing of the owls? Even worse, he probably suspected James and Fred of being in the Owlery that night he'd been doing patrol- especially as James had shouted out taunts at Belby- and now they were stuck with him in detention! And he had no way of communicating with his father...

Just then, Dawlish called for silence, and the whole classroom fell into a deathly hush.

"This class," he announced to the students, "is _not _about fighting Death Eaters. It is about learning how to defend yourselves when necessary. In my time as an Auror-"

"During which his good looks haven't diminished at all." Whispered Fred, earning him an elbow in the ribs from James –"I have seen the consequences of being ill-prepared for a fight, and believe me, they are not pretty. Now, although You-Know-You has vanished, there are still sympathisers and others out there who can be extremely dangerous. So let's start. Who here knows the spell 'Stupefy?'"

Out of about thirty students, twenty hands shot up- James' and Fred's included. Dawlish nodded his grizzled face approvingly. "Excellent. We have a starting point. Those who don't know, go to the back of the classroom. Everyone else, come here."

Everyone else scrambled to do as he said, leaving James at the front next to Tommy Abbot, Louis' friend, who grinned cheerfully at him. On the other side was Alice, who turned an interesting shade of magenta and looked away when he smiled at her, leaving him feeling extremely confused. Girls! What was the matter with them?

"Right. Before I go and deal with the students at the back- pay attention, by the way, you lot- let's get things sorted here. We'll be starting with 'Rictusempra' today- who knows that one?"

The hand count was significantly smaller this time, but James and Fred put their hands into the air and waved them enthusiastically. To James' satisfaction, Catrin didn't seem to have mastered the spell. Last year, he recalled, she'd had trouble with something as simple as 'Stupefy'. Dawlish seemed to stifle a groan looking at the boys. "Okay. Anyone who _does _know the spell, partner yourselves up with someone who doesn't. That way one of you can tutor the other."

Once again, James felt dislike for the teacher bubble up like lava- as well as mounting suspicion- as he found himself paired with none other than the Welshie, who stared at him intently, as though she were measuring up his weaknesses. James frowned and stared back just as fixedly; this was shaping up to be more like a duel than a lesson.

When Dawlish marched off to see to the cowering non-Stupefy lot, James shook back his sleeves and drew his wand. "Right." He said, uneasiness bubbling up in his gut. He wasn't used to teaching at all- "It goes like this..."

To his surprise, the lesson passed fairly quickly, with Catrin proving to be an adept pupil. He wasn't sure where she'd learnt her wand techniques, though- she'd need something like _tutoring _for that...

Ten minutes before the end, she'd cracked it.

"Rictusempra!" She cried happily- and James ducked out of the way as a bolt of purple light shot towards him, forcing him to deflect the spell with a badly-cast Shield Charm.

"Watch it!" He cried, though he laughed, seeing the glee on her face as he headed back to collect his bag before the end of the lesson. To his surprise, he found himself feeling quite pleased that he'd lasted the lesson without wanting to throttle Catrin, and taught her a spell into the bargain. As he passed Dawlish, the ex-Auror gave him a hard stare which he returned. James brushed past him roughly and continued on his way - he really couldn't be bothered with talking to the professor right now, especially as he was potentially a guilty suspect.

As James passed his desk, he reached down for his bag without really thinking- and froze as his fingers encountered something smooth and parchment-like that definitely _hadn't _been there before.

He brought his hand up to eyelevel and saw- with a lurch that send his heart spinning upwards towards his throat and his stomach downwards to approximately six feet under- another envelope reading _Mr James Potter_ across the front in ink.

Heart beating in his mouth, he unfurled the letter, parchment crinkling under his fingers, every sense on hyperalert.

_Dear, dear, Mr Potter. Sneaking around in the middle of the night? That really shouldn't be allowed...God forbid it should come to light along with everything else..._

James swallowed hard, staring at the letter almost uncomprehendingly, bile rising in his throat along with a kind of panic. Who was sending these letters? He'd thought it was a one-off...why were they doing it? What did they want? Why wouldn't they _stop_?

Letter crunched tightly in his hand, he bolted for the door, not caring about Fred's startled exclamation or Benedict's questions. He needed someplace to be alone...and think about things calmly, rationally...

As he sprinted into an adjoining corridor, there was a peculiar scraping, tinkling noise above them which broke through his panicked trance. James skidded to a halt and looked up, confused- only to see the crystal chandelier above them unscrewing itself with alarming speed. Transfixed with horror, he could only stare as, with an ominous jingling, the mass of metal and glass began its rapid descent towards the ground...and him.


	8. A Suspicious Chandelier and Quidditch

"_Accio James!" _

As James looked on, transfixed with terror at the twisted mess of crystal and brass intending to skewer him through, a sudden inexplicable force seemed to grab the back of his robes and yank him like a bullet along the corridor. Silver suits of armour and paintings became blurred as he flew past- until he smashed like a sack of potatoes into something hard, which promptly gave way underneath him.

"Ooof!" The wind smashed out of him in an explosion, leaving him gasping for breath like a landed fish as he slid to the ground.

"Bloody hell, that _hurt_!"

The curse yanked him back to his senses in a very brusque way. James sucked some air into his aching lungs and tried to ignore the pain in them- and in his back, and his arms and head- and finally choked out- "_Victoire_?"

"Yes, you idiot!"

James heaved himself up off the floor and squinted at his cousin, who was staring down at him, blue eyes wide with a shock that he suspected was mirrored in his own.

"What were you _doing_ down there?" She almost yelled at him, clutching her wand so tightly her knuckles turned parchment-white. "You...you were almost _squashed _by that...by that chandelier!"

James looked back at the place where he'd been, and swallowed hard. Crystal fragments were scattered all over the floor in glittering shards, along with the warped metal that was all that was left of his almost-doom. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if Victoire hadn't seen him.

"There was nothing to bring that down naturally- no earthquake or anything. It was screwed in tight..." Victoire said shakily, sinking down onto the floor next to her cousin. James' own legs were so jelly-like he didn't want to even attempt standing up, so he stayed where he was. He'd come to that conclusion as well.

"...so...It must have been something like...sabotage." She exhaled sharply and ran a hand through her shimmering red-gold tresses. "God, James...what if you were meant to be under that thing? What if...they wanted to crush you?"

"Who wants to do that?" James pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, causing fiery cartwheels to spin behind his closed lids. Actually, now he came to think of it, there were several people who didn't like him...

Who was the most suspicious? Who had sneaked into the Owlery after hours, who had been conveniently placed next to James' bag to possibly deliver an unsigned letter? Who had seemed to dislike James for a good while before he'd insulted him just now?

Belby? Or Dawlish? Did they hate him so much they wanted him _dead_?

Slowly, testing his legs- and using Victoire's shoulder as a support- James stood up and wobbled his way to the crash site.

"Help me look, Vic." He called over his shoulder, breathing deeply to get rid of the shakes. He bent down over the chandelier. It didn't look like it had been forced...so it had to be magic. Who was skilled enough to bring down a chandelier silently and without having to be in eyesight of it? Only a fifth-year or above, definitely.

He felt a sudden breath of wind as Victoire moved past him to look at the metal. She didn't ask questions or scream- or even ask why he was doing it. James felt a sudden burst of affection for her.

In all, she was pretty awesome.

"Okay, so it was done by magic." Victoire said, running her finger around what was left of the screw. "They'd have to be within at least ten metres of this thing to check if you were underneath or not- it was a long shot, though...Okay. Breathe. We're at the entrance to a corridor now. So it would either be...in that classroom there- the one we just came from-...or in the corridor somewhere. The Defence classroom is the only one on this corridor."

James looked almost casually out of the window at the last rays of autumnal sunshine, which didn't match his almost panicked mood at all. Someone had taken a shot at him- had at least meant to injure him. And they'd possibly come from the classroom that he'd just left...

Damn.

"Well, James. We know all the people who were in there. I would lie low for a bit- no more pranks- in case you draw attention to yourself again. They probably wanted to scare you- and I hope they did! Don't do anything like that again!"

Just then, students started to file out of the classroom they'd just left. James watched them- and their curious glances at the ex-chandelier, thinking _Is it you? Did you just take a swing at me?_

Despite Victoire's warning, he couldn't help sneering as Belby stalked past.

"You alright, mate?" Fred appeared at his elbow. "I saw you sprint out of the door- and why's the chandelier on the floor?"

"Accident." James said casually, finally unclenching his fist and staring almost blankly at the crushed parchment. He quickly slid it into his pocket; he didn't want to think any more tonight.

He thanked Victoire- who glanced at him worriedly and recommended the Hospital Wing for shock- and headed up to his dormitory, his appetite vanished.

When he got there, he found that his Invisibility Cloak had vanished from his trunk.

* * *

Autumn blurred past in a haze of golden sunshine which gradually cooled as they reached November. When James looked out of the window, he could see golden-brown leaves in the Forbidden Forest being whisked from their branches and being sent spinning like Frisbees through the air towards Hagrid's Hut. James loved this time of year in particular, though he couldn't exactly say why. Maybe it was the liberating feeling he felt watching the leaves defy gravity as they twirled delicately past the windows in the classrooms and corridors- he could happily (and he did) spend a lesson watching the leaves instead of concentrating on the work that he was supposed to be doing.

This wasn't the best thing to be doing: the work for the second-years was hardly slacking off. Quite the opposite, in fact- now they were being expected to turn animals into goblets (for what reason, James wasn't quite sure- he didn't fancy drinking out of a furry ex-mouse), something that Fred had managed to pull off first, much to his surprise.

Benedict was still continuing the trend that he'd started off earlier, dashing off at odd moments and reappearing half an hour later, pretending nothing had happened. The worst thing was, he did it so suddenly that James often didn't notice that he'd gone, so he couldn't track his progress with the Marauder's Map.

No more chandelier incidents happened over the next few weeks, though for the first few days James had been on hyper-alert, jumping at every twitch. Despite this- or perhaps because of this- no more letters had arrived, and post was still blocked in the castle, causing much frustration amongst students who were missing out on parental advice or packages stuffed with sweets. James had had a discussion with Fred, and they had come to conclusion that the owls had either been killed because something was happening in the Wizarding World, or (more likely) Hogwarts, so no parents or Ministry wizards would find out what was going on and come investigating. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened so far though, except for the owls, chandelier and letter. And Dawlish being in the Owlery out of hours. That was suspicious in itself.

"So, Mr Potter, are we beginning our Befuddlement Beverage?" James gave a start and looked into the kindly face of Professor Merrythought, eyes narrowed in concern. Behind him, vapours and smoke blurred the walls of the Potions dungeon, permeated with the heady smells of various ingredients.

James offered a guilty smile. "Sorry, yeah. Just dozed off for a moment."

"Looks like you've taken some already!" The professor chuckled. "Come on, Mr Potter! Your friend's already started!"

James shot a sideways glare at Fred, who smiled innocently. You could almost see the halo above his head when he did that. It must be the freckles and wide eyes thing. James wished he could do the same, but no luck. He, apparently, had a permanently guilty face.

As Merrythimble watched James, he hurriedly flipped to the correct page in his Potions book, and scanned the text, before starting to slice some Wiggentree leaves.

"Busy day, to be dropping off like that." Merrythimble commented, adjusting his glasses as James' knife flashed in the light of the flames underneath his cauldron.

"Er- we just had that extra Defence lesson with Professor Dawlish." James replied, tipping the leaves into the steaming pot. He thought it would be rude not to talk back to the teacher. "Haven't had lunch."

"My, my, no lunch! You should prioritize. Mind you, Dawlish has been running these lessons for four weeks now. Moved on from Rictusempra yet?" Merrythimble chuckled at James' discomfort, and changed the subject. "I hear there's a Quidditch match later today as well."

"After this lesson, sir."

"Well, I'll definitely be watching."

"Er- thanks, sir."

The teacher smiled again, and ambled down the aisle, leaving James to crush his Billywig stings in peace.

"Yessir. No sir. Three bags full, sir." A voice mocked from behind him. James turned to see Catrin smirking, and shot her a violent glare, which she parried with a smile. Beside him, Fred coughed in a way that made James think it had started out as a laugh.

The lesson passed quickly- after adding all the ingredients, James was surprised to find in his cauldron a potion vaguely resembling the textbook description- a glutinous, pale blue liquid which slopped around unappetizingly. Fred's looked around the same as his when James leaned over to sneak a peek, and they exchanged conspirator's grins of triumph. Then Fred dug into his bag and retrieved an empty inkpot, which he waved meaningfully towards the potion.

"Genius!" James whispered, getting out his wand as he didn't want any Befuddlement Beverage on his hands. Slowly, the pot levitated itself into the mixture, swirled around a little, and lifted itself out, dripping slightly with viscous blue goo. Fred grabbed it with a hand cloaked in robe, gave it a quick wipedown with the cloth, and ceremoniously sealed it whilst James glanced around to make sure that they hadn't been spotted.

Just then, the bell went.

"Oh dear, we've overstretched ourselves. Go on, I'll clear up the mess." Merrythimble called as the class stampeded towards the exit. As James passed through the door, he noticed Dawlish standing just outside the entrance, looking above their heads into the classroom. James gave him a cautious- and curious- glance. What was he doing here? He hardly ever went down from his office. Hopefully he wasn't intending to attack Merrythimble, although the teacher could always befuddle the ex-Auror if he had to.

The last-minute match- which had been rescheduled due to heavy rain the previous Saturday - was jam-packed with students, seeing as dinner had been temporarily postponed until after the game. James swallowed heavily at the entrance to the changing rooms, feeling a huge lump manifest itself in his throat. Nothing like a bit of pressure...

"Oi, Potter. Come on!" He turned to see Smith gesturing from the entrance. "Match starts in five!"

"Yeah..." James gulped. Fred banged him on the back. "Go on, mate. I'll be in the stands, hoping you won't fall...joking!"  
James mock-punched him, and headed into the rooms to change. As he pulled his scarlet and gold robes over his head, smelling strongly of washing power, his eyes scanned the draped room. Smith, Mirk and Cootes blurred in front of his eyes; Alice smiled at him and then blushed scarlet. Mary Bell tipped him a wink.

"Alright, mate?" Louis moved to sit next to him, and clapped him on the shoulder. "You're looking like a fish out of water."

"Feel like it, too." James muttered.

"Don't worry. My first match, I fainted after take off. Crashed through the goalhoop carrying the Quaffle- scored a goal too! Best of the century, they reckon...then I decided I wanted to be a Beater instead. Don't worry 'bout it."

"Okay guys, we're on." Smith stood up, tall and lanky in his robes, voice cracked with nerves. "No time for a pep talk. Just...good luck."

Circe cracked her knuckles in a very unfeminine way, and Smith led the team out onto the pitch. Sunlight hit James like a poke in the eye, and he clutched his Nimbus as he took in the Hufflepuff yellow opposite. His opposite number- 6- seemed to be built like a brick outhouse. He gulped as Number 6 sized him up, and visibly grinned, showing a lot of sharklike teeth. James could see that much across the fogginess of his bad vision.

Smith had his had shaken by the Captain, and Madam Hooch hobbled onto the pitch. She was a legendary figure in Hogwarts. In her seventies, and she still hadn't given up on her great love, Quidditch. Rumour had it that she actually slept in the stands.

"Play fair." She shouted across the pitch, and put her foot on the chest containing the Quidditch balls and the silver whistle to her lips.

James closed his eyes.

The whistle shrilled.

The team kicked off.

James pushed against the ground and felt the broom rise up, up, up in to the air, free as a bird. As in team practises, James' fears melted away like ice as he soared up into the stands.

"_And they're off! The Quaffle's already been snatched by Dickenson- nice move that lad- and they're speeding down towards the Gryffindor goalposts. Look out for that Bludger! Too late-"_

Then the Quaffle zoomed towards his head. James swore; only lightning reflexes saved him as he snatched the ball out of the air and accelerated towards the Hufflepuff goalkeeper.

_Slam!_

James gasped involuntarily as a crashing weight slammed into the side, almost making him lose the Quaffle. Sky and stands blurred for a moment as he fought desperately to keep a handhold, and when he jerked his head around, he found himself staring at his opposite number- at the face of Marcus Belby. Oh joy. _He _was sharkteeth guy; no wonder he'd been so pleased to see James.

"Sure you're ready for a big boy's game, Potter?" The Hufflepuff jeered as he readied himself to make a second pass at James.

James, out of the corner of his eye, saw a small black Bludger rapidly growing larger as it zoomed across the pitch towards him. Praying this would work, he pointed the broom handle straight down.

Everything blurred as the broom tilted sickeningly; James rocketed downwards like a stone _just _as the Bludger smashed into the spot he would have occupied- in fact, where Belby was now.

"_And Belby just took a hit from a Bludger as well- nicely timed move by Potter, a new addition to the team- come on Hufflepuff, are you dead on your feet?"_

"Wood!"

"Sorry, Professor." Polly Wood didn't sound contrite at all, though.

Rid of Belby- at least temporarily- James sped towards the goalposts again, tossing the Quaffle sideways Mary when she loomed up alongside him.

"_And they're heading for the goal- a nice test for Appleby now-"_

Appleby's concentrating face was blurry, but rapidly gaining focus, bobbing in front of the three hoops.

Mary sped towards him, James close on her tail.

She headed straight for the leftmost goalpost, and Appleby tracked her every move, zooming sideways to protect the hoop. Just then, the Quaffle flew backwards through the air to a very surprised James, who almost by accident caught it. The burly Hufflepuff looked almost as surprised as James.

It had been a feint!

Holding the Quaffle, forty metres in the air, James did the only thing he could think of.

He threw it- and it soared, almost in slow-motion- straight through the glistening golden hoop.

"_And he scores! Ten points to Gryffindor! Potter opens the match with a stunning goal from the youngest Chaser!"_

James slowly opened his eyes to see a furious looking Appleby and a triumphant-looking Mary Bell.

He couldn't believe it.

He'd scored!

OAL!


	9. Catrin

**Hey guys. New chapter...tell me what you think! :)**

The after-match celebration in the Gryffindor Tower was tumultuous. Everyone came down and treated themselves to Butterbeer, oodles of sweets and James suspected that a couple of Canary Creams were doing the rounds as well, judging by the amount of feathers in the vicinity. The atmosphere was raucous- as well it should be, especially seeing as Gryffindor had won a scorching victory of one hundred and eighty to one; a victory which had been sealed due to Alice's spectacular flying leap off her broom a hundred feet into the air to catch the tiny winged Snitch. At the moment, she was the hero of the day and everyone was plying her with Butterbeer. As a result, she was seriously tipsy and giggling to herself in a corner, being looked after by a rather maternal Valerie.

It was when Dawlish finally came in at two o'clock in the morning, just when Louis had started on a rather loud shanty starting (alarmingly) with 'Morgana was an old fart head...' that the previously non-existent light bulb above James' head flicked on.

"Settle down!" Dawlish yelled, firing a volley of bangs from his wand and causing Louis to fall over backwards into the sofa, which swallowed him with a loud burp. Several of his friends rushed over to pull him out, whilst the Auror glared at the rest of the celebrators.

"I appreciate that you're celebrating." He said stiffly, waving his wand and causing all of the Butterbeer to disappear to Food Limbo (to a collective groan). "But it's well past bedtime for each and every one of you, and _some of us _are trying to sleep. Now, to your dormitories, everyone, unless you have a particularly urgent reason- like unfinished homework, for example- not to." Was it James' imagination, or did his gaze snap over to where he and Al were, trying to outscoff each other with two jumbo-size pots of Bertie Bott's? James stared defiantly back, and was rewarded when Dawlish looked away. As James watched, he slipped his hand into his pocket, half-drawing out a parchment coloured envelope.

James blanched. Was it? Could it be-

"Right. Off you go. Don't make me angry."

Only suicidal people had a wish to make an irritable ex-Auror angry, and the Common Room started to clear with alarming speed. Seeing his work was done, Dawlish turned to leave.

James sprinted over to where the teacher was, the crowd providing perfect cover. "Sir!"  
"Potter."

"What was that in your pocket? I mean-"

"What I have in my pocket is no concern of yours, Potter."

"But sir- I mean-" James' cheeks flushed warmer than a fire, and he blurted it out. "Is it you that's been leaving me those letters?"

Al chose this time to bob up helpfully at his elbow, green eyes fixed on the Professor.

"Potter, if you're having trouble with your love life, don't ask a single man. Goodnight."

_Touché!_

"Who killed the owls?" James demanded over the clamour of the students. Dawlish looked at him then- one long, hard look that made him shuffle his feet, embarrassed but determined not to give in.

"You're a lot like your father, Potter. Don't get involved." And with that, Dawlish turned on his heel in a swirl of black cloak, and left, leaving James staring, frustrated, after him.

"That bloody-"

"-Interesting man." Al said thoughtfully, pressing his lips together and somehow managing to wedge a bean between them anyway. He grimaced. "Yuck, compost. Why were you asking him about letters, Jam?"

"I've been getting some." James felt ready to punch a wall in frustration. He ran through the scene backwards in his mind again- owls, letters, evasiveness...Dawlish pulling a letter out of his pocket.

_Ding!_

Wait!

Problem.

He couldn't pick pockets.

But who had done so to Macnair, last year?  
He scanned the room, searching for a lilting voice, a mass of waving hair, and a certain _balanced _way of walking.

He saw her, just getting ready to walk the spiral staircase to the girl's dormitory- where he couldn't reach her without making a fool of himself. He lunged forwards through the crowd, fighting elbows and arms, and eventually seized her wrist.

"Catrin!"  
She turned on him, eyes flashing, and for a second James was genuinely afraid that she might punch him. Then recognition flashed in her eyes, and she calmed down somewhat.

"What?"  
"I've got a favour to ask you."

Suspicion immediately replaced wariness. "What is it?"

"Come over here..." He pulled her over to the more-or-less deserted fireplace and called over Fred and Al. No sense in leaving them out.

"Right. Get this over and done with soon, Potter." She crossed her arms over her chest, looking defensive. Fred looked bemused, and Al a little wiser as James explained his master plan.

"Can you pickpocket Dawlish for me?"

"You want _**what**_?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to goggle at him in disbelief. James, feeling mildly embarrassed, explained himself, leaving out the bit with his letters. He felt a small bite of panic. Would she help? _Could _she help?

"You think I'm a thief?" A bizarre blend of emotions crossed Catrin's face. Hurt, mixed with something less easily definable. Panic, perhaps? Sadness? Maybe both.

"I'm sorry." James said, although he didn't exactly know what he was apologising for. "But I need to know what he's up to. There's something...not quite right about him."  
"Mate, you sure about this?" Fred asked quietly. "Stealing from a teacher...blimey. You could get Catrin into a lot of trouble for this."  
"I know, Fred. I wouldn't ask unless I was desperate." James ran both hands through his hair in frustration.

"I'll do it." Catrin said suddenly, causing the boys to turn and stare. "But-" she held up a finger "-only if you tell us the whole story. Including the reason you want me to steal from Dawlish. There had better be a good reason as to why I'm doing this."

James closed his eyes- the desire to be helped and the desire to keep everyone out of this fought savagely inside his head. Help won.

"Okay, fine." With his eyes closed, he recounted the story of the Butterbeer, the chandelier the letter he'd found in the Defence Lesson- and that one only. The other letters- which he carried around with him at all times- burnt a hole in his pocket as he did so.

When he'd finished, there was complete silence.

"So...you think the blackmailer is connected to the dead owls?" Fred asked. "What do you have that they want?"

"Maybe it's something Dad knows." Albus piped up, causing them to turn and stare at him. He shrugged. "What? He knows lots about Voldemort and Aurors."

"Juicy scandal!" Fred's eyes gleamed with amusement- his mother Angelina was an avid reader of Witch Weekly and so he was nearly always up to date with gossip in the Wizarding world.

"Well, I'll see." Catrin said briskly, standing up. "Guys, can I just talk to James alone for a sec?"

"Yup." Fred said easily, standing up. "Come on, Al."

As the two headed for the dormitory, she faced James. "Why didn't you tell them before?"

"Didn't want to involve them." He said casually.

She smiled then, and then- astoundingly- leaned in close and hugged James. James swallowed and then slowly, tentatively hugged her back, breathing in the fresh scent of honeysuckle from her dark hair.

His face felt very warm all of a sudden.

"You're a good person, James." She said, smiling. "See you tomorrow."  
James watched her disappear up the stairs to the girl's dormitories. He couldn't even formulate a smart reply.

"Wit woo." Fred said, sticking his head around the door frame. "Looks like you made a conquest of the mystery one, mate. Nicely done!"

* * *

Catrin decided to leave it until next day to carry out her mission- or even the one after that, depending on how things went. She hated to admit it, but she felt that the situation was just like it had been two years ago- the stakeout. Sizing up your target, calculating weakness, and then: the strike.

And even though she'd moved on, it still gave her that same guilty thrill.

But the first thing she did when she woke up next morning was to read through the letters she'd nicked from James Potter the night before. They weren't the stuff of nightmares exactly, but she could see why he'd been (though he wouldn't admit it, probably not even to himself) scared. Someone who knew exactly what you were doing and could drop off letters without being seen wasn't exactly the stuff dreams were made of.

Catrin made her way down to breakfast next morning, absorbed in her own thoughts, mainly concerning these mysterious letters. There had to be someone who was monitoring James- someone close to him. That was the only option- that or a constant 24hour magical surveillance, which was fairly unlikely.

Fred? No, definitely not. Catrin knew Fred just as well as his other friends. Considerate and caring, with an underlying mischievous streak, he and James together were thicker than cold custard. There was no way a Weasley would betray a Potter.

Slimy Creep, then? Her loathing of him only got greater as time went on, and she doubted that he had the same loyal qualities. Why was he even a Gryffindor? He really wasn't_ fyddlon.  
_

"Hey, Cat. Looking preoccupied." Alice greeted her with a gentle smile over her bowl of cereal. "Good news, though. Guess what!"

"What?" Catrin reached for the bacon.

"They're bringing in replacement owls from the post office in Hogsmeade. We'll be able to send some owls before Christmas!"

"Great! _Dda iawn!_"

She'd be able to speak to Hestia, at least. And hope that she hadn't found out about Bryn, her cat. The explanation as to how Bryn had come to be in her possession hadn't quite formulated in Catrin's mind yet, so she hastily changed the subject.

"Gotta run an errand at break. Potter asked me."

Catrin filled Alice in- she'd been involved in their adventures last year too, and she'd proved herself reliable by now.

However, as soon as James' name left her lips, Alice (predictably by now) blushed scarlet. Catrin bit her lip to hide her smile. "You like him a lot, don't you?"  
"No." Alice shook her head vigorously, ears like curls of bacon, and immersed herself in eating breakfast. Catrin smirked to herself, thinking at the same time that you wouldn't catch her being so silly over a boy. Especially not James Potter- not like _that, _anyway. She gazed up at the Enchanted Ceiling. Almost Christmas...the sky was a moody grey.

It looked rather foreboding.

* * *

Lessons passed in a blur, and the bell rang for break after a laborious hour of listening to Professor Binns' lecture on the Taming of the Plimpy by the Merpeople, giving Catrin an excuse to sprint out of the door and run through the corridors towards the Defence room. She'd just caught sight of the door to the classroom when- _slam!_

"Not so fast, Mudblood!"

An arm had shot out of nowhere, catching Catrin and swinging her back against the bare stone wall with a thud, cracking her head against the hard surface. Stars sprang into life behind her eyes- as well as a fair amount of pain- and she blinked dizzily up at her attacker.

It was Belby. Shame. He hadn't been so annoying these past few months.

The newly-christened Annoying One leaned in offensively close, breathing foul air over her face. Someone needed to discover breath mints- and soon, before she passed out.

"Keep out of whatever's going on with Potter." He growled into her ear. "You're messing with stuff that's best left alone."

Catrin gasped for breath. "You, pal. Quit bullying. You suck at it. _Ydych chi'n deall?"_

The Welsh seemed to make him even angrier, and he drew his wand, towering over her- all six foot one of him. Catrin gulped inwardly. Were all seventh years this tall? "The Ministry want this wrapped up without annoying, immature kids sticking their noses in."

Right. She'd had enough.

"You'd better not involve yourself any more then."

Then she moved. Jamming her foot into his instep, she kicked his kneecap hard enough to make him stagger and howl in pain, launching a clumsy punch that never reached its target. Spinning underneath his arm, she drew her foot in and delivered a punishing snap-kick to his stomach, sending him sprawling across the carpet to the applause of the portraits lining the walls (with the exception of one regal looking woman, who was having a fit about 'muggle duelling').

With Belby gasping for breath like a landed fish, Catrin drew her own wand and leaned in close, blood thundering through her veins with fury. "I'll be telling James that the Ministry are involved, you creep. And, for the record. I'm not a Mudblood. My mother was Gwenog Jones. A witch who was more famous than yours, I'd think. _Hwyl fawr."_

Then she Stunned him.

As he slumped, Catrin glanced towards the door. Damn! She'd forgotten all about Dawlish. Though there was still a chance...

She filled her lungs- and before she could think about it, screamed at the top of her lungs.

_Bang! _The door to the Defence classroom burst open and the Auror charged down the corridor, wand aloft, looking positively terrifying.

"What! What is it? What's happened?" He yelled at her.

"That boy...he...he attacked me!" Catrin cried, allowing her knees to give way. "He called me Mudblood, and he...threatened to stun me! I only got him by accident!"

As Dawlish leaned forwards to check on the culprit- and hopefully give him a suitable punishment. He deserved it- Catrin slumped against him as if for support. Unbeknown to him, her fingers slipped inside his pocket and closed on a sheaf of parchment. Before the episode was over, that was safely stored in her robes. The pang of victory made her feel at once satisfied and a little scared of relapsing back into her old ways, so she shoved the incident to the back of her mind. The letter had been obtained.

She'd give it to James later.


	10. The Stone

When James read the letter over his dinner- which was a bad idea as it got a gravy coating- he could hardly believe his eyes. The letter was comprised of fairly few words written in capitals. It could have been written by anyone- and it wasn't from the person that James had been getting blackmailed.

_Dawlish, _it went,

_Desist from trying to find the Resurrection Stone. It will only bring misery to you if you do not keep from getting involved. The Stone's power is dangerous and you will only end up using it for your own ends. Surely you see that it is best we deal with it safely? I implore you not to interfere._

_Best wishes._

"Why does nobody ever sign their letters nowadays?" James hissed frustratedly, handing the parchment to Fred. "It's a common courtesy."

"Maybe they feel that there are people on their trail. They're going to take over the world using ink, parchment, and good old Spellotape." Fred shrugged as he scanned the page. "Oi, James. Doesn't your Dad know something about the Resurrection Stone? Is this what everything's about? Killing the owls- and sending letters to you?"  
"I dunno. Dad never says anything about the stone, though." James could guess why. Chances were that Harry Potter had used the Stone himself, and seen people that he'd thought dead. And then let them go again so he could sacrifice himself. He could understand why his father wouldn't want to talk about that particular part of his past.

"Does the Resurrection Stone do what it says? You know...resurrect?" James looked up, startled- right into Catrin's wide grey eyes. She was biting her lip and not touching her food, with a kind of raw, almost painful hope in her eyes- this was as agitated as he'd ever seen her.

With a dull shock, James remembered that her mother was dead, and silently cursed his idiocy. How stupid for him to go bandying information about the Stone, when Catrin could only face temptation- and definitely pain- from using it! James recalled the tale of the Deathly Hallows with no difficulty at all. He knew what happened to the middle brother- he 'killed himself, so as truly to join her'. Great.

"Er- yeah." He said awkwardly. "But it...it's not like that. They don't really come back...they're just shadows."

"Oh."

Fred waggled his eyebrows at James, and then rolled his eyes when James looked panicked. Then he leaned across the table. "Listen, Kitkat." He said, as gentle as James had ever heard him. "I know it's bad, but your mother's dead. Leave that stone alone. No magic in the world can bring things back to life. If I could, I'd bring back my hamster."

Catrin half smiled, half glared. "Yes...yeah, I know that." She stood up suddenly, sending the pumpkin juice flying. "I just need to..." before the sentence was out of her mouth, she was sprinting up the gap between the tables. Fred and James spun around, only to watch her disappear through the doors, presumably heading for the girl's bathroom.

"Aah." Fred closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That was clever of me."

"Nah. The whole subject was bound to raise issues." James sighed. "I don't think she'll want us following her..."  
"No, definitely not."

"We'd better go." Fred said, echoing James' thoughts exactly.

Together, they sprinted up the great marble staircase in the flickering light of the torches, and followed the ever-diminishing sound of Catrin's footsteps until they conceded defeat. James pulled out the map, and studied it. "Yeah, she's in the bathroom, and there's no way we can follow her in unless we want to be transfigured into a loo roll or something."

"I think you'd look lovely as a loo roll." Fred smirked. "White always was your colour."

"Shut up!"  
Panting, James flopped onto the ground and leant against the ridged stone wall, cursing himself for his insensitivity. Fred, however, didn't follow his lead. He was staring behind James' head, eyes like saucers.

"What? Envisaging me as toilet paper?" James grumbled, craning his neck to get a good view. "Woah!"

Above them, the whole wall was covered with carvings, which, on closer inspection, revealed themselves to be writing- thousands of names, etched into the stone.

"It's the Hogwarts Memorial." Fred breathed. "All the people that Voldemort and his followers killed."

James levered himself up from the floor, and studied the wall. "Yeah. I've never properly looked before. Blimey, there're loads of them." He began to walk along the stone, reading the names out loud. "_Marlene McKinnon, Colin Creevey, Amelia Bones, Fred Weasley-_hey! You're here, Fred!"

"What!"

"Look, there- Fred Weasley. Born, 1st April, 1978-Died 2nd May, 1998."

Together, they studied the writing.

"Born, 1st April...I remember Dad saying something about an 'Uncle Fred'...he never likes to talk about him."

"Yeah...you alright, mate?"

For Fred had gone grey. James leaned forwards, concerned, but his friend smiled shakily. "It's fine. It's just...he was my dad's twin. And he's got my name. But...dad never talks about him. At all. I...I don't know anything about him."

"I think that's enough for today." James was getting seriously alarmed by his cousin's pallor- he looked like he was going into shock. "C'mon. Let's get you up to the Common Room."

So, today's tally, he couldn't help thinking, went something like this: one friend sobbing in a bathroom, and one shell-shocked due to the rediscovery of his namesake.

All things considered, that was pretty bad.

* * *

White flakes fell from the sky with increasing regularity as the days inched towards Christmas time, and soon Hagrid was dragging in the first of the thirteen large Christmas trees to decorate the halls with. Holly and mistletoe grew up in the corridors almost overnight (girls liked to congregate under the mistletoe bunches), and the castle grew so bitterly cold that James had been driven to desperate measures by borrowing a leaf from his aunt's book and learning how to conjure bluebell flames in a jam jar to keep him and Fred warm. Fortunately, lessons were due to end soon, and they could head for the cosy comfort of the Burrow to spend their family Christmas in. James had also spent copious amounts of time in the library, trying to find out more about the Resurrection Stone. Apart from a battered copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard, he'd found nothing. Zilch. At least the holidays were looming...the only sad thing was that the Professor Merrythimble had cruelly given them an essay on the limits of magic to do, which James was struggling to finish before the holidays started. All the other teachers had let them do fun things, like transfiguring Chocolate Frogs or making exploding marbles. Why did there have to be an essay involved?

"_Magic...cannot bring back...the dead." _James muttered to himself, before holding his parchment up to examine what he'd written. "There!"

Just then, there was an explosion of hissing and yowling from underneath his seat, and a black blur shot across his lap, spilling ink everywhere- including on his essay and onto Smith, who didn't seem to notice (which couldn't have been hard, because he was currently participating in a kind of mouth wrestling match with Circe Coote). "Argh, no! Son of a banshee!" James yelled as Bryn the cat disappeared under the nearest dresser, causing Louis- who was sitting next to him- to crack up, and the entire Common Room to temporarily go silent.

"That cat's got it in for me." James muttered, watching a flicking black tail swish the dust on the stone flags. "How'm I going to clean up this essay?"

"I'll do it." Louis grabbed the sodden mess and began siphoning the ink off. "I suppose that cat just ruined this work of secret genius because it hates you."

"It was revolutionary stuff. A record for the most boring essay written in the history of wizardkind." James yawned and leaned back in his chair, basking in the warmth. "Thanks. Mm...fire. Nice."

"Ug. Me caveman. Yes, I can see you as the next Professor Binns as we speak. He's got the same way with words as you have."  
"Shut up!" James hurled a marble at Louis, who ducked before it could singe his eyebrows. It sailed over his head- right into the waiting hands of Harry Potter, who palmed it neatly.

James boggled. "Wha- who- _Dad_?"  
"Hi, James. Merry Christmas!"

As one, the entire Common Room turned to stare at the legend that was Harry Potter. With a growing sense of unreality, James noticed a couple of girls fumbling for lipstick tubes and mirrors out of the corner of his eye. One had even done a kind of dramatic swoon onto the floor in an impressive two seconds flat. A thought of what Ginny would say if she knew what was happening popped into his mind, and he inwardly cringed.

"Dad!" A small, black haired blur raced across the room and attached itself to Harry's waist like a limpet.

"Hey, Al. Mind if we step outside for a moment? You too, James, Fred, Louis, Victoire."

James stared into Louis' wide blue eyes for a second, and then nodded. Together, the boys walked out of the Portrait Hole into the freezing corridor outside. Victoire, hair rippling down her back in a golden-red waterfall, detached herself from her group of friends and followed. A few seconds later, Fred arrived. James cast a worried glance at him. He hadn't said much at all since the wall, and that more than anything else was frightening to James.

Harry turned to face them, one arm around his son's shoulders. Their breath plumed in the corridor, and James shuffled his feet to keep warm.

"Blimey. I'd forgotten how cold it was here in winter." Harry grinned, and so did Al. For a moment, James had the disconcerting impression that two Harrys were looking at him, and he blinked hard.

"Anyway, let's cut to the chase, 'cause it's freezing. I was coming here anyway on school business, and as it's the holidays tomorrow, I thought I'd come and take you home a day early."

Harry's face was entirely smooth as he delivered this line, but James wasn't fooled- he knew his dad too well. Something was up, and Harry Potter had managed to find a way to insert himself into it. Though, if it was about the Resurrection Stone, he'd probably never found a way to get himself _out _of it.

The others weren't so suspicious.

"Yeah!" Victoire grinned, nodding in appreciation. "Alright, I'll get to see Mum and Dad earlier."  
"And Teddy boy." Louis said slyly. "His royal blueness."

This earned him a jab to the kidneys, and he was still wincing when Harry told them to go and get their trunks. "I might be a bit late, so just wait in the Common Room until I come and get you." He said lightly.

"But Dad- your whole fan club's in there!" Al complained.

Harry shuddered, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Romilda Vane' before telling Al to 'grin and bear it'.

Everyone nodded; James seized Fred's arm and dragged him back through the Portrait Hole into the throng of curious Gryffindor students. "What did he say? What does he want? Will he sign this parchment, d'you reckon? Victoire!"  
"Wassamatter?" Fred grumbled as James dragged him into the Boys Dormitory and started rifling frantically through his trunk.

"Don't you see? Dad wants us to pop off for a couple of minutes so he can go and see someone. He never comes here normally...so whatever he's doing is going to be something to do with these owls and that stone! Ah-hah!"  
He pulled the silvery Invisibility Cloak out from the depths of his trunk. "You coming?"  
"Er..."

"Fred!"  
"Oh, fine!"  
Securely invisible, they ventured downstairs and managed to navigate the Common Room unnoticed- although some people gawked as James shoved past them to get to the Fat Lady's portrait.

Harry was still there, trying to get rid of Al. "Dad, can I come?"

"No, Al, adult business."

"But Da-ad!"

"No, son. Go on- get packed."

With an almighty grumble, Al turned and sloped towards the Fat Lady, who smiled down at him. "Just like your father." She said, and let him through. "Nice to see you again, Mr Potter."

James froze with fright- had he been found out that easily? But Harry grinned. "Yeah. Bet you don't miss me sneaking around at night."  
"Not at all."

Then he turned and made his way off down the corridor, James and Fred in hot pursuit. His path led them down several corridors and down the staircases- where James almost got his foot stuck in the trick step- before turning off into the library. A light bobbed out of the dark towards him and James squinted before recognising Professor _Merrythimble, _of all people. James exchanged baffled looks with Fred. _What was going on?_

"Have you got it?"

"Yes-right here."

Their voices were so low James had difficulty in catching them, but in the glow of the lantern he saw a thick leatherbound book exchange hands. The whole scene looked rather suspicious, in James' eyes.

"Thanks for doing this, Gammelyn."

"No problem. Take care." Professor Merrythimble then turned and bobbed through the darkness, returning the way he'd come. James thought he seemed extremely satisfied with himself, and scowled at his retreating back.

Harry, meanwhile, made to open the book, then checked his watch and blanched. Breaking into a long-legged stride that had Fred and James almost sprinting after him, cloak flapping around their ankles, he made his way back to the Common Room.

James hadn't considered how they'd get back before Harry, but it seemed that the only way was to run. Together, they broke into a crazy dash, flying past Harry, who looked startled at the sudden breeze, and leaving him far behind. Ten minutes later, they arrived, panting, at the Fat Lady's portrait.

"I thought you were in there." She frowned at them. "Password?"

"Tinsel." Fred gasped out from between his teeth, and the hole swung open.

When Harry arrived to collect them, James noticed that the book was missing, and as he followed his father out of the Portrait Hole to travel to the Burrow by Floo Powder, he thought that Christmas might actually be a lot more exciting than first thought.


	11. Christmas at the Burrow

**Heya. It's weird writing about Christmas in summertime...but hey. Here we go! Read, review! (Who can spot the Dr Who reference? ;) )  
**

**By the way, mega thanks to everyone who's been reviewing so far. Really appreciate it! :)  
**

The Burrow was the perfect place to spend Christmas. Nestled within a thick blanket of snow, its cosy interior was, as always, packed to the rafters with the entire Weasley family, and with countless uncles, James and Fred were never short of willing victims to play pranks on- Charlie and George were especially keen on this, even giving them tips on how to improve their technique. So far, fourteen fake wands and were circulating the house and kept popping up at odd moments (for example when Grandma Weasley attempted to make an apple pie. Needless to say, much swearing followed).

With all the family together for Christmas, James felt a deep satisfaction that everything was right in the world. This, of course, was tempered a bit by smugness of his being right about Victoire and 'his royal blueness'- this had been proven by Victoire's glass-shattering "_Teddy_!" when he met them on the station, followed by an embrace which it took at least 15 minutes to coax them out of. Since the holidays had started, they'd spent half of their time going on meaningful 'walks' which James suspected meant hardly any walking and an awful lot of something else.

But apart from that, most of their time was taken up with Exploding Snap, Muggle card games and wizard chess which their Uncle Ron seemed surprisingly good at. The best thing about being at the Burrow for Christmas, though, was that Harry's dumpling of a cousin, Dudley (or Dumpley, as the kids called him behind his back) couldn't visit them, something which James, Al and Lily were blessedly thankful for. Those awkward visits had been the blight of James' childhood (though Dudley hadn't brought his kids since James had secretly fed them Canary Creams and caused mass hysteria all around).

Christmas Eve saw the children tramp into the Burrow, wet and flushed from a mass snowball fight with George, Ron, Harry Charlie and Teddy. Fortunately, the Burrow was less cramped than usual, as Bill and Fleur had gone out for a meal, and Angelina was spending Christmas with her parents.

"Alright there? Hang on-" From her sprawled position near the fireside, Ginny pointed her wand at the radio to drown out the incessant moaning of Celestina Warbeck. "God, I can't believe that woman's still going. Who won?"

"We claimed victory in a one-sided battle. They were absolute wimps." Harry told her, plonking himself next to her and shaking his hair vigorously, before swooping in for what must have been an extremely cold kiss.

"It's not fair! They cheated- their snowballs kept zooming back to hit us like boomerangs!" Rose complained, chucking her coat and scarf onto the nearest couch, hitting a dozing Ron in the face and causing him to yell with fright. She fluffed out her mass of bushy brown hair, and stalked off towards the kitchen. "Hot chocolate, anyone?"

"Me! Me!" Lily chimed in, running off after her cousin. "Can we have marshmallows, Gran'ma Weasley?"

"Of course you can, dear." Mrs Weasley- the family matriarch- cast a fond look over her young grandchild as she followed her into the next room. Though her auburn hair had faded to a sandy grey, her mind was as sharp as ever, and she was constantly being asked to tell the story of her famous defeat over Bellatrix (which she did with relish).

"Okay, everyone else under fifteen, bed!" Hermione called over the chatter.

"Hey- can't they stay up a little longer?" Ron protested, giving his best pleading face.

This did not cut any ice with Hermione. "Come on, it's Christmas tomorrow. They can stay up then."

Groaning and shuffling, the kids snaked their way to the door- except for James , who stood stock-still. "Da-ad..."

"No."

"I'll use the Cloak!"  
Almost every adult in the room laughed, and James scowled under their combined gaze, feeling heat creep up his neck in an unstoppable wave. Harry half-grinned, and shot a glance at Ginny, who shrugged.

"Blackmailed by my own son. So embarrassing. Fine."

"Yessss!" Punching the air was definitely called for, before James energetically threw himself into the nearest armchair and savoured his victory. He waved to Fred, who scowled heavily, before being shoved upstairs by Angelina.

"He's just like you, Ginny." Charlie smiled. "You always had to include yourself in everything, too."

Ginny flipped her scarlet mane out of her face. "Hey- I had to grow up fast with no girly company."

"Talking of the Cloak..." Harry said slowly, turning to face his son. James gulped. "I noticed that a certain Marauder's Map was missing from my desk."

"Oh, it that what it's called? Well, you weren't using it! It's really cool, Dad. Who made it?"

"Er...actually, your grandfather."

"_What_? That's awesome!" James boggled at the news. Clearly, he'd gotten his amazing magical skills from somewhere after all!

"Yeah. Oh, do you know how to activate it?"

"No..."

As Harry taught him what to do, James drifted in and out of concentration, only half-listening. His grandfather had made the map? That was amazing; he knew enough to see that creating something like that would be seriously advanced magic. Had he had helpers? Oh, yeah- Siruis and Lupin. Who was 'Wormtail' then? Next to him, George yawned and rumpled his hair. "A true prankster, your dad, Harry. Him and Sirius...I would kill for a Time Turner, just to go back and see them in action."

"That would equal extreme chaos. You don't need any more ideas for your joke shop, George darling." Grandma Weasley bustled back in and turned up the radio again, before going upstairs to check on Rose, Hugo and Lily, who would no doubt be trying not to go to sleep.

"Dad, can I ask you something?" James surveyed the gnome on top of the Christmas tree as he spoke. It was glaring down at him as though it wished he were in its place. Not a chance.

"Yeah, go on."

"What's going on in Hogwarts? Were the owls killed...because of the Resurrection Stone?"

Whatever everyone had been expecting, James reflected, it probably wasn't that. Ron spat out a huge mouthful of eggnog-as he had been standing, it went all over the Christmas gnome-and Harry's fingers stiffened around his wand, and the resulting flame scorched the ceiling.

Only Charlie seemed unimpressed. "Chill, guys. It's not like this is an if-I-tell-you-I'll-have-to-kill-you situation. Harry, contrary to popular belief, you're not a secret agent."

"Easy for you to say." Harry muttered, before confronting his son. "How in the name of Merlin's leftover steak sandwich did you get to hear about this?"

"Leftover steak sandwich? That's a good one." Ron muttered.

"Thanks. Now, James, answer!"

Quickly, James filled them in on how he'd basically flouted the rules of Hogwarts in pursuit of general nosiness. Ron, Ginny and George found the tale hilarious; everyone else's expressions were more serious.

"Someone _else _is trying to find the Stone? That's bad news." Harry muttered. "The Ministry, you reckon?"

"They've wanted to get their mitts on it ever since they learnt that the rumours were true." Hermione said, leaning against the sofa leg. "I think it would be them. Then there's probably someone in Hogwarts who is doing their dirty work for them; snooping around."

"Well, then." Ginny spoke into the silence. "I'm guessing that they're going to be interested in James. As Harry's son, he's the one who's most likely to know where it is."

"Oh goody." James said dryly. "I've always loved people poking their nose into my private life. I'd better start hiding my embarrassing collection of muggle comics now."

"Embarrassing is one word for them." Ginny said, standing up and stretching. "Right, I'm off to bed. That means you're coming too, James."

Appalled at having his time cut short, James started to protest, but gave up. Well, he felt that anyone would if their mother actually got out her wand and levitated them towards the door, accompanied by howls of laughter from their uncles. James hit the floor, flushing scarlet, and made a mock bow, before exiting the room with a lot more on his mind than had been before.

As he went, though, he heard Grandma Weasley say "He gets more like your father every time I see him, Harry. He, Fred- James and Sirius combined. Pure mischief. Or even Fred-"

"I know." Harry's voice sighed, glossing over the sudden silence. "His smart mouth is going to lead him into trouble- I think we need to get Al to look after him. He's got a good heart, though, and it shows when things get tough. Anyway, speaking of Sirius..."

Ginny tugged at his elbow, trying to drag him upstairs, but James dug his heels in, just in time to hear Harry say "...had a son."

"A son? Harry, _what_?"

"Yeah. I know..."

"When did you find this out?"

"Last year, when..."  
"_Bed!" _Ginny hissed, and James didn't get to hear any more.

He really had to ask George for some Extendable Ears sometime.

Did this thing with Sirius have anything to do with Catrin? It seemed highly likely, given her secrecy... He'd ask her later. (Surprisingly, she'd gotten him a present- a cuddly Welsh dragon, which was now sitting on his trunk. Lily had christened him 'Flamey'. In return (or maybe revenge), James had gotten her a cuddly Snitch.)

James stared at Flamey now in the quiet of Ron's old bedroom, who stared right back, mirroring his excitement. Bring on Christmas!

* * *

Christmas Day at the Burrow was all that James had hoped it would be. He'd been woken up –as per tradition- by Lily shouting in his ear at about 6.30 in the morning, and dragged downstairs to where the 'magic house elf' had deposited the presents at the foot of the lavishly decorated Christmas tree.

"James! Jammy! Come and see!"

"Ugh..." James cracked open an eyelid to see one excited brown eye, framed by a shock of red hair staring enthusiastically at him. "Coming, Lil. Gimme a minute." He slowly sat up in Ron's old Chudley Cannon adorned room. He doubted that it had changed much in the 20-odd years since Ron had lived there. Snow blocked the light, sparkling almost magically in the early morning sun.

"What did you get me?"

"You're going to have to find that out for yourself!" James leapt out of bed and shook Lily upside down by the ankles until she squealed, and together they raced to drag Al out of his bed.

"Allie!"

"_Don't _call me that!" Once Al had thrown all of the pillows within reach, James was able to tempt him out of bed using a combination of bribery and pleading. By this time, most of the household had been woken up by Albus and Lily's yelling, and though the adults tried to get back to sleep, they were so heavily outnumbered by their children that in the end they had to get up.

Present unwrapping soon followed; James, to his delight, received a new broomstick care kit for his beloved Nimbus, oodles of sweets (he considerably expanded his and a knitted sweater with a large 'J' on it, which was several sizes too big for him.

"Hey, James, swap!" George called at him across the living room, tossing his own tiny 'G' jumper at him. "You can be 'Games' and I'll be 'Jorge'."

"Cheers, Jorge!"

"Can I have it?" Lily's red hair flew as she bounded towards her uncle and bounced into his lap. "Can I be 'Jily'?"

"Only I have the privilege of being Jorge, Jily." George said solemnly. "But you may borrow the holy jumper."

Lily beamed and put it on; the jumper reached down to her knees and she didn't take it off for the rest of the day. James grinned, a surge of affection for his little sister lighting up in him.

Christmas dinner was a rowdy affair- James was inwardly thankful that neither Bill and Fleur, nor Percy and Audrey were there, because the table was cramped enough as it was. James managed to find himself squished up against Teddy on one side, and Charlie on the other. All of them were wearing novelty Christmas hats- James, wearing a flower garland, had managed to coax Harry into a rasta cap, and George was proudly sporting a fez. "Fezes are cool." He'd said solemnly to James. "You really need to get me a bow tie next Christmas. Bow ties are cool too."

"Mum, you really should convert Dad's old shed into an extra bedroom or something. His clutter is just taking up room!" Charlie said through a mouthful of chicken. James pricked up his ears. He hadn't known Grandad Weasley for very long before he'd died, but his shed was, apparently, the stuff of legend.

"I know, but I never really had the heart to throw anything away." Grandma Weasley sighed, noticing James' empty plate. "More parsnip, dear?"

"Yes, please!" The dish levitated itself towards him, and James grabbed it.

"I don't know how you cook so well, Mum." Ginny sighed, as her son enthusiastically heaped his plate high with parsnip. She was wearing a new necklace- presumably from Harry- and looked resplendent in it. James gathered as much from the fact that his father was constantly staring at her. Honestly!

"I don't know how you cook so badly, Ginny dear."

"Er...I had seven brothers to do it for me?"

"We can't cook either, Ginny." Ron butted in, mouth full of potatoes. "I rely entirely on Hermione's cooking..."

"Don't laugh!" Hermione cried as the table burst into giggles- her cooking was not the best thing James had ever tasted. It could best be described as _experimental._

"I think it's lovely." Rose said staunchly. Then she cracked a little. "Canis- our dog- thought so as well."

"That's why he's so fat..." Hugo mused. "Ow...Rosie! Don't- hit me! I'll hit you back! Hi-yah!"

"Darling, control the rabble-rousers." Ron grinned at Hermione, who stuck her tongue out at him. As the table exploded into chatter, Teddy turned and faced James. "Hey, James. How's Catrin doing?"  
"What? Oh, yeah, fine." Slightly taken-aback, James recalled Teddy's almost brotherly attitude towards her last year. He grinned.

"I won't tell Victoire you asked about her, though."

"Victoire and I are bonded on a spiritual level. She understands perfectly." Teddy retorted, cheeks flushing scarlet.

James- as well as Fred- snorted loudly into their dinners. "A cauldron full of hot strong lo-o-o-ove." warbled Ginny. "Just as well. You're going to be a bachelor for the rest of your life, aren't you, James?"

"You'd better tell that to Alice Longbottom, before she dies of _amour _for James." Fred said slyly, grabbing the bowl of Christmas pudding offered by Mrs Weasley. "Thanks, Gran."  
"You shut up!" James cried. "I'll duel you for that!"

"A _duel _to win Alice's heart? Lucky, lucky Alice!" Al sang from across the table.

"Can I be bridesmaid?" Lily demanded. "If you don't, I'll cry!"

"No! I mean, yes! NO! We're not getting married!" James yelled. Cue a massive food fight which lasted at least ten minutes (with George and Charlie getting involved too) before they were shepherded to the living room.

As ever, Christmas at the Weasley's was the _best_.


	12. A Mysterious Opponent

The Christmas holidays zoomed past, and suddenly the snow was melting. Before he knew it, James found himself packing his bags for the journey back to Hogwarts, a couple of days after New Year's Eve. The New Year had proved extremely entertaining- Louis had managed to get his hands on the drinks cabinet and had attempted to prove to Hugo that he could, in fact, wear a dress and fly a broomstick at the same time. The result ended with a huge hole in the living room and a rather badly battered Rose, who had been knocked through the door into the kitchen and hit her head on the range. After Ron's yelling had stopped shaking the house, everyone had gone outside to watch the fireworks, and the day after, all the adults had stayed in bed until about eleven, nursing their hangovers.

The day that they were due to go back to school was also experiencing its fair share of chaos- James forgot his broomstick-polishing kit, Victoire kept sprinting back into the house for last goodbyes with Teddy, and Fred kept pestering his father about his right to have discounts for the joke shop. On top of all that, they still had some leftover firework specials left in the shed, and Al was trying to smuggle them into his trunk.

"RIGHT!" Harry roared over the clamour, as five students eventually dragged their trunks out into the chilly yard. "Let's get this over with, because God knows if not I'll snap and hex you all to kingdom come."

"Fair enough." Fred muttered to James, who grinned.

"Right. Everyone's gone to work now, so no rushing back inside the house for _anything_. And I mean anything, Albus. Let's go."

As they packed their luggage into Grandad Weasley's ancient blue car, James shivered, drawing his cloak tighter around himself. Something felt wrong...off. Call it sixth sense, but tingles were running up and down his spine. _Someone's walking over my grave._ Something big was going to happen at some point today.

"Come on, slowcoach!" Victoire laughed, jolting him out of his trance by catching him by the elbow and swinging him into the warm interior of the car. "Or we'll leave you behind."  
"Oi!" James yelped.

"Can I drive, Harry?"

"Victoire, let's not make this journey any more stressful than it absolutely has to be."

* * *

The journey to King's Cross was short, and in no time at all they were standing on the platform, and it was ten to eleven. Feeling very cool, James _casually _leant on the barrier, and slipped through into Platform Nine and Three Quarters, quickly followed by Fred, and a panting Al, who had taken the wall at a run.

James looked around the smoky platform with pleasure. There was the Hogwarts Express, gleaming scarlet as blood, there were all of the students- most of them on the train by now- and there were the multitude of animals and parents, crying and laughing generally making a racket.

He spotted Valerian- Valerie- in the crowd, and there were Catrin and Alice, heads close and laughing. He guessed that they'd gone into Diagon Alley, because the Longbottoms lived in Hogsmeade. He grinned and waved; Catrin smiled back; Alice went beetroot.

"Right." said Harry, adjusting his glasses. "James, can I have a word? Go on, you guys."  
As James drew closer, his father leaned close to him and spoke quickly, urgency audible in every word. "James, listen. _Do not _let the Resurrection Stone fall into the hands of anybody. Not the Ministry, not any teacher or student. Nobody. The dead are the dead; let them rest. The power the Stone gives you...is not meant to be meddled with. Do you understand me? I'm trusting you with this."  
James nodded slowly.

"Okay, then, let's get-"

"Potter!"

Father and son spun around to see a tall, black-robed figure standing behind, pointing his wand directly at Harry. Without even thinking about it, James stepped in front of his father, shielding him from the aggressor.

"Yes?" Harry's voice was perfectly calm, but James noticed his hand steal into his robes pocket. By now, the others- Fred, Louis, Victoire and Al- had turned around, startled. In a kind of daze, James saw heads in the crowd begin to turn, Catrin's and Alice's included.

"You know what we want." The man began to stride forwards threateningly, footsteps echoing in the sudden silence. "Give it to us, before anyone gets hurt."  
"Or what?" Harry asked calmly.

"Or we'll have to take you in."

"Erkhart, you don't even have backup. Yes, I know it's you, even under all that black. You can't hide your voice from me."

By now, the others had joined them, wands held tightly in clenched hands. Erkhart...James had heard that name before...

"Ministry man." Victoire hissed out of the side of her mouth. Aaah.

"Maybe so, Potter, you arrogant sod, but I do have backup."

And as if in a nightmare, James saw more cloaked _figures_ patrol out of the darkness towards them. The crowd were beginning to panic now; the children were being forced into the train; the adults were Disapparating with loud _crack_s.

"I'm not telling you where it is." Harry ran his hands through his hair. "Merlin's beard...after all these years, how do you know _now_? Why do you care _now_?"

"_Give it to me_!" Erkhart snarled, and lunged forwards. A spell lanced through the air and struck Harry on the side of the head. He was thrown backwards with a yell, and landed heavily on his back, gasping.

"_That's my dad!" _James yelled, and shot a Stunner at the Ministry worker. Warbeck dodged the first, but he wasn't so lucky where Louis' jinx was concerned: it hit him square on the face, and he collapsed to the ground, sprouting feelers.

The other people- Ministry? Death-Eaters?- charged forwards. "That's Potter's son!" One of them roared, and James gulped, eying the distance between himself and the train.

"Get away from him!" Victoire screamed, blowing one out of the way. She spun her wand in a circle, and a shockwave blasted through the massed ranks of the wizards, knocking them to the floor.

And just like that, the platform became a battlezone.

"Al! Get on the train! It's going to go in ten!" James roared at his younger brother, but he shook his head stubbornly, running across to where his father lay. "AL! Fred, go check if Dad's alright."

His cousin nodded grimly, and ran over to where Harry lay.

James spun and dodged, aiming Stunners where he could and just ducking their spells where he couldn't. He found himself squaring off against a wizard whose cloak didn't disguise the fact that he had an extremely large, hooked nose. "Stupefy!" James yelled, only to have it blasted aside repeatedly by the wizard, who then retaliated with an "Impedimenta!" which threw him across the floor.

Wheezing, James watched as the wizard advanced on him. "Tell me where the Stone is!"

Somehow, he found enough air to choke a defiant "Never!" at his attacker who snarled, and raised his wand-

A fist swung through the air, followed by a foot. Both connected with him and the man screamed in agony, his hood falling back to reveal an ordinary man yelling on the ground. A quick punch soon put him out of his misery, and James looked up to see- who else?- Catrin, wielding a wand in one hand and a right hook on the other. Both looked extremely deadly. Alice ran up behind her, panting. "I got rid of that other moron."

"Good one." Catrin flashed a fierce battle grin at her companion. James was suddenly reminded of Harry's godfather, Sirius Black. "Come on, Potter!" She yelled at him.

James realised he'd been staring, coughed (awkward!), and leapt up, back into the fray. Blast, attack, knock out- he soon found out that he, Alice and Catrin made a good squad together. Two on firepower; one on brute force.

They battled across the platform, dodging spells and curses, until they met up with Louis and Victoire, back-to-back, fighting off all opposition. Together, they made a formidable team, almost anticipating each other's moves, and using their closeness to give each attacker a sound thrashing.

"Come on!" James yelled, lunging through the smoke towards them. The spells above their heads spun and screeched like fireworks-

Wait.

James spun around completely, and sprinted towards Al's luggage, where it lay abandoned on the floor. "Alohomora!" He muttered, unlocking the trunk and quickly opening it. There it was- the last set of Weasley's Flame-Bomb Fireworks.

Yanking the wrapping off, he pointed them at the general direction of the melee, touched the tip of his wand to the base, and prayed.

The fireworks exploded down the platform like multiple bats out of hell, screeching and wailing fit to burst. Attackers and attackees alike screamed and leapt to the side as they screamed through the throng, effectively halting the fighting for a few precious moments.

James used those to fire off Stunners like a madman into the throng. They bounded off the walls and floor, hitting and missing and ricocheting like bullets. Several cloaked figures dropped as though they'd been given a dose of U-No-Poo on a bad day, and several more screamed and vanished on the spot, Disapparating back to base, or wherever it was they came from.

"Fall back!" He heard Erkhart scream through a mouthful of feelers. "Disapparate!"

One by one, they began to grab their fallen comrades and disappear, filling the station with cracks and pops. James heaved a sigh of relief as their numbers dwindled, eventually leaving only Erkhart himself on the ground, struggling to get to his feet.

"You might have escaped us this time, Potter, but not forever!" He growled towards the general direction of Harry. "And that goes for you too, you little brat!" He snarled at James.

"Try saying that without a mouthful of antennae. It'll sound more threatening." James told him.

Erkhart finally managed to stand up straight, propping himself up against the rough brick wall of the station. Then there was a muffled curse as he disappeared through the brick wall, back into the Muggle world.

"_Ha_!" James yelled, punching the air with his fist and dancing on the spot. "That showed them! Dance with me, Al!" And he spun his little brother in circles, despite his yelling and shoving. Adrenaline was dancing at a hundred miles per hour in his veins, making every little detail seem super-clear and focussed. He felt like climbing Mount Everest, or at the very least setting a world record for something interesting and weird.

"Merlin's...I can't even find a word bad enough." Victoire said slowly, letting out a long, shaky breath. "What the hell was that all about?"  
"Dunno...Dad!" James had suddenly remembered why this had happened in the first place. Spinning on his heel, he dashed towards where Fred was kneeling next to Harry.

"Fred...is he alright?"

Fred turned saucer-like brown eyes on him. "The spell gashed his head open. Head wounds bleed a lot, but I tried to stop the bleeding. Look; he's coming around now."

Everyone crouched around Harry, holding their breath.

"Dad?" breathed Al.

Catrin bent over Harry, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Mr Potter?"

Harry's eyelids fluttered. "Sirius?"

James frowned- _what_? This was getting ridiculous! Catrin flushed scarlet and shook her head. "No. Catrin Jones. Can you see me?"

"Just about." Harry rubbed his eyes blearily¸ hauling himself up onto his elbows. Gingerly, he raised a hand to the bloody, matted side of his head, and winced. "Oww...What just happened?" His eyes widened behind their skewed glasses. "The platform looks like a battleground!"  
"That's because it is." Victoire said quickly, shaking her magnificent mane of hair out. "We beat off Warbeck and his friends. Harry, can you make it to St. Mungo's? You need to have your head checked out."

"Yeah...you need to...get to school." Harry muttered.

"We're not going anywhere." Al said firmly. James risked a glance at the large clock on the wall. It read three to eleven, and counting. But he'd stay for his dad, no question.

Just then, there was a loud _crack _and Ginny appeared out of thin air, red hair flying in a blaze of fire.

"Harry!" She sprinted over to him, kneeling down and putting her hand on his cheek. "What happened? Cho Chang just Apparated into our house- I almost cursed her- and told me that there was a battle going on at Platform Nine and Three Quarters!"

She took out her wand and swished it through the air in a complicated gesture, forehead furrowed in concentration. Before James' eyes, the wound sealed itself up, as though an invisible needle was stitching the flesh together.

"There." She said tenderly, leaning in for a kiss. Despite everything, James averted his eyes. Why did his parents have to be so embarrassing, in plain view of all the students on the Express?

"Love you." Harry mumbled, his eyes unfocussing. Then he staggered to his feet, swaying slightly.

"Right. I'll just go to work."

"You will _not_." Ginny said loudly. "You're coming straight to St. Mungo's. Come on."

"We'll come too!" James butted in, only to collide with a wall of motherly defiance.

"Get on the train."

"But _Mum_-"

"James Sirius Potter, _get on the train._ I'll send you an owl, love. But I've got to get your dad to a Healer." She swooped in briefly and kissed her two sons (they both immediately wiped their cheeks afterwards) before spinning in a circle, and disappearing with a loud _crack, _taking Harry with her.

"How's that for the power of motherhood?" Louis raised his eyebrows in admiration.

"Louis, shut up!" Victoire, waving her wand and causing the luggage to zoom across the station into the train, broke into a fast walk. "James, stop staring at the floor! Quick, the train's starting to go!"

Together, the group sprinted across the platform towards the steaming Express, which was slowly starting to pull away from the station.

"_Aperius!_" Victoire yelled, and one of the carriage doors sprang open. Al was shoved through first, then Louis and Victoire, Catrin and Alice, and finally James- flat-out sprinting now to keep up with the train- made a flying leap and squished Alice into the wall.

Slamming the door shut behind them, he paused for breath, before noticing that the corridor was packed with students staring at their little group. Clearly, their demonstration on the platform hadn't gone unnoticed.

"They're staring at us like we're the second Voldemort." Fred muttered uneasily, shifting from one foot to the other. Nervously, he ruffled his bright hair. James looked at him with concern; he hadn't been himself since discovering his namesake on the Hogwarts Memorial- and that had been about a month ago. He'd have to do something once they got back to school.

"Oh yeah, his genius was such that he managed to shape shift into seven people at once. Great man, that guy. Made the best dumplings I ever tasted." Louis smirked. James glanced sidelong at his cousin. With his sparkling blue eyes and acid tongue, he seemed to have come out of the scuffle the least affected. Louis noticed him staring and flashed a Lockhart-worthy grin that would no doubt have had several girls up and down the carriage swooning. Despite himself, James felt a spike of jealousy flash in him. He quickly shoved it aside, appalled at himself.

In the end, though, the goggling got so bad that James intervened. Well, somebody had to. Sinking into a deep bow, he smiled at the gawping crowd and announced that they would be doing an autograph signing session in half an hour's time, but first some beauty sleep was due. "So can you please stop staring?"

Slowly, everyone started to shuffle back into their compartments. Victoire sighed, and then leaned her head against the corridor wall.

"This is going to be a long journey."

And James, remembering his father's state when he'd left with Ginny, bit his lip worriedly and agreed with her.


	13. McGonagall and Benedict

Professor McGonagall was waiting for them at the entrance to the Great Hall. James- who had spent the journey on the Hogwarts Express crowing over the battle on the platform to cover up his worry for Harry- almost sprinted towards her, shoving several students out of the way as he did so and ignoring their yells as the whole Entrance Hall turned into a game of dominoes.

"Professor-" he gasped, worry roiling through his gut. "Professor- you've got to help-"

She turned intense black eyes on him. "Ah, Mr Potter. I've been waiting for you. Will you and your friends kindly accompany me to my office?"

"Yeah, but Professor-"

"Your father is well, Mr Potter. I have received an owl from your mother. _Now, _if you please."

James glared at her, strongly tempted to pull out his wand and force her to listen to him. She needed to find out what was happening! If he told her about the Resurrection Stone, would she help? But Harry had asked him not to tell anybody...

Damn.

Magnificently poised, Professor McGonagall swept up the stairs, leaving James and Fred-who'd just arrived, panting, by his side- to follow. He caught sight of Victoire's worried eyes in the crowd, and shot her a reassuring wink (well; he hoped it was a reassuring wink. James didn't do reassuring very well). Every step was torture; the smells of the Great Hall were wafting upwards steadily and making everyone's belly rumble. "_Accio bread." _James whispered, and several rolls came zooming through the crowd like enthusiastic brown bullets, bouncing off the walls and people's heads (one got stuck in an unfortunate Hufflepuff's ear, making her looking like Frankenstein's monster, bakery-style) until James managed to catch them. He took a big bite, tossing one to Fred and tearing into the roll. Well, he didn't know if he'd be getting dinner or not.

McGonagall led them up several floors, and finally down a corridor, at the end of which stood a tall statue of a gargoyle. James, with a feeling of dread, suddenly knew where they were going. His father had told him about his many talks with Dumbledore (Albus- heh! He couldn't be further removed from his brother) in the office which lay behind the statue of a gargoyle.

"Sugar quills." McGonagall barked, and the stone statue leapt to life, springing aside to admit the spiralling staircase. Despite himself, James felt just a little bit excited-he'd heard about this room so many times, to actually go into it himself was a bit like stepping into a film set.

The staircase led them upwards to a solid wooden door, which opened by itself. Inside, James was immediately distracted by all sorts of magical instruments, which were fizzing and clinking to themselves on one table, by the countless numbers of thick, leather-bound books taking up one shelf, by the numerous cauldrons steaming in different colours to themselves in the corner of the room... James couldn't resist darting forwards and peeking in one- and jerked his head back hastily as an emerald geyser of smoke shot towards his face, screaming. He yelled in shock as the vapour seared past his cheek, before rising in a puff towards the ceiling.

"Thank you, Mr Potter, for displaying your insatiable curiosity in my office." Professor McGonagall informed him dryly. "You might now be interested to find that your cheek has gone bright green, and will remain so for several days."

James clutched his cheek in horror, and glanced sideways at Fred, who stuffed his fist into his mouth and ballooned his cheeks out like a chipmunk to resist the temptation of laughing. "You look like an angry cucumber- only uglier!" He choked out between mouthfuls of finger. James _almost _swore at him- but then remembered that something like 'And you look like Grindylow pie' might _not_ go down all too well with the person who was now glaring at them in a way that looked like he'd slapped her grandmother.

"_When you've quite finished."_ McGonagall said crisply. "I would very much like to hear what transpired on the platform just before the Hogwart's Express departed this morning."

Fred and James glanced at each other, before hurriedly relating the story in bits and bobs to the Headmistress. James hesitated when he came to the Stone; he'd told Harry not to tell anybody. Did that apply to irritable people with the power to expel you? Well, he'd leave it for now, anyway.

"...and then we made it onto the train." Fred rounded off, biting his lip. "Professor- is Harry-"

"He is perfectly well, Mr Weasley." McGonagall said tartly. "He received treatment for minor concussion and has now travelled to Grimauld Place to rest before heading back home. Isn't that right, Phineas?"

A grimy portrait which hung high on the wall nodded his silver-bearded, sharp-featured face once, wearing an expression of deep disgust. "Yes, in the house of my ancestors, the ungrateful little-"

"_Thank you, _Phineas."

"Aren't you going to look for the attackers? Warbeck?" James asked furiously. "He's on the loose right now! He's got support- I dunno if they're Ministry or Death Eaters, but-"

"_Of course, _Potter, but at the moment it's hard to know who to trust. Dolores Umbridge-" a faint sneer crossed her face as she spoke "- is rampaging around the Ministry, determined to find out why they were attacking in the first place. She's like a rabid toad. I've never known her so interested in Potter before."

"But-"

"You can go now, Potter, Weasley."  
James recognised the dismissal, but still smarted at it. McGonagall was already moving away from them, heading towards a stone cabinet where he knew- through Harry's stories- that the Pensieve sat, waiting for her to deposit her thoughts and memories.

But the only thing they could do now was leave, and to tramp back down the spiral staircase, with nothing to show for their conversation but a green cheek that made him look like a demented mutant vegetable. James felt absolutely miserable- he declined Fred's offer of going back down to the Feast, but instead made his way alone up to the Gryffindor Common Room where he marched straight up to his fourposter.

He needed to sit, think- no, to do something constructive! Something relaxing- something he hadn't done in a long time...

There, he unlocked the trunk- which had handily been deposited there- and rummaged in its depths for several minutes. He knew for a fact that he hadn't taken it out since first year... aha!

James- after looking around for several seconds- then withdrew a slightly bent, battered sketchpad, pencil and rubber from the very bottom of his stuff. There was a reason it had been hidden so well- cool boys weren't seen drawing. He'd be the butt of everyone's jokes for years to come.

Slowly, he flipped through the sketches- he'd had this thing since about nine- watching his hand become surer and the drawings actually look like what they were supposed to be. It had to be admitted, Audrey- who had taught him- was still much better. Then, he clumsily picked up the pencil, gave it a tap on the paper, and leant back against the headboard. He'd draw the rich velvet curtains.

He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed this.

James stayed like that for quite a while.

* * *

Despite the dramatic start to the school year, the lessons began without further ado, and the teachers certainly weren't shy of depositing homework upon them. James and Fred became the recipient of more than a few curious – and admiring- glances over the next few weeks (though he wasn't sure how much was due to his vibrantly green cheek and how much to his adventure), which he enjoyed immensely, relating his story to anyone who had the slightest interest in what he was saying. This, sadly, made Ben extremely jealous, and he refused to talk to the boys for a considerable while, though this sulk soon stopped when he became stuck on a homework problem and had to come and ask the two boys for help.

As the thick layer of snow began to melt at the start of February, James and Fred began to spend more time in the library- James, to look for mentions of the Stone, Fred to (presumably) look for mentions of his namesake in the endless tomes that lay on the dusty shelves. He was convinced that Dawlish had something to do with it, but wasn't quite ready to attempt the Robbery of the Century on an Auror's office. Something told him that he might end up with sludge for brains and compost for a body.

James, though, wasn't built for hard studying- he wasn't actually related to Hermione, after all- and it was with great relief that he welcomed the start of Quidditch practice, even though Smith pushed them harder than ever.

"Come on, you weaklings! Are you related to MOLES?! Longbottom, is that flying, or is it aerial ballet? My grandma could move better than that, and she's in a wheelchair!" He roared, during one particularly windy afternoon. The sun was low in the sky, and their broomsticks were being buffered by icy blasts that sliced through their clothing and left them feeling cold and numb. James was trying to locate the Quaffle at the other end of the pitch, though with his limited eyesight, he could only see a faint red blur.

"Potter, if I see you squint _one more time, _I'll turn you into a Puffskein! Then you can bounce around the pitch! _Go down there and get the Quaffle off Bell!_"

James curled his fists to resist the temptation to curse Smith all the way to the North Pole and back, and tried to do as he said, but the winds were knocking his broom off course so much that he took at least twice the time to get to the end of the pitch, where Mary had scored at least ten times and was doing a one-woman victory dance.

Smith saw their failed efforts, and that- plus many entreating glances from Circe, his groupie- made him quit practice early.

"ALRIGHT! FALL IN!" He shouted, and when they'd all gathered around- "You'd better play better than that on Saturday, you hear? Otherwise we'll LOSE! And then I'll use your brooms for firewood! Off with you!"

With sighs of relief, the Gryffindors headed off. Alice caught up with James as they headed towards the changing room, and offered him a tentative smile. Confused, James smiled back, and- by now, predictably- she flushed rose. What was her problem?

Suddenly anxious to get away, James made an excuse and sprinted for the changing room, hastily tugging his robes on. He then ran outside into the icy cold evening air, clutching his broom. The wind had stilled in the last couple of minutes; if it held, it would be perfect for flying. Grinning to himself, he kicked off from the ground- splattering mud everywhere- soaring into the cold evening sky. The broom was rock steady underneath his fingers, and the tiniest shred of sunlight was lancing down through the clouds like a golden spear. Already he could feel that sense of freedom- he was as high as a bird, untouchable, unseeable.

Hogwarts' stone towers loomed as he soared towards them; James made a couple of passes around them, waiting outside a window and booing all of the prefects who passed on their way to their 'special bathroom'. Then he went down and repeated the same process in the library- and judging by the amount of yelling, swearing and flying paperwork that went on in the next couple of minutes, he'd done a fairly good job of it.

Saving the most interesting 'til last, James headed for the Owlery, intending to find out whether the birds had been replaced by the school- or whether they'd been freshly killed by the 'Phantom Bird-brain'. The hooting and cawing that greeted him assured him that all was well- however the image of Benedict Umbridge tying a letter to a tawny's leg was not.

Because in his hand was a replica of the very same letters that James had been receiving. The Mystery Sender.

James' blood froze in his veins. He stared at the letter, at his friend's hand slipping it into his pocket. At the new letter that he was sending, undoubtedly to the M.S. And suddenly several things clicked into place at once.

Ben's constant running off. The fact that anything he confided in Ben- or did with him- had been discovered by the writer. The fact that the letters kept appearing in places that meant that the person had to have been close to him- the Gryffindor Tower, his school bag. And all that time he'd pretended to be his friend...!

James' stomach dropped so low that it felt like it was falling through his body to the rocks, hundreds of metres below him.

He must have gasped, because just then Benedict looked upwards. They locked eyes- brown on hazel.

And then he turned tail and sprinted through the Owlery door.

Shock replaced by a suddenly blinding anger, James raced after him- not through the Owlery windows, which were too small, but along the corridor. He spotted Benedict's frantic, breathless, beetroot red face appear at every window he flashed by.

The other boy spotted him- gasped- and ran down a side corridor. James, cursing, followed. He spotted Louis' shocked face at another window, and heard him yell "_FRED!"_ But then he whipped out of sight.

A large window was approaching; all glass. James' target had just paused, and was bent double, panting, out of breath. James clocked this; clocked that there was no other thing for it- and then turned his broom and smashed sideways through the glass pane.

The world fragmented into silver and white- James couldn't see anything but that- there was a horrible splintering noise- a hundred slices of pain opened all over his body-

BAM.

He crashed into Benedict, knocking the wind out of the other boy for the second time. Something cracked. _Not my Baby, _James prayed as he sprawled across the floor like so much rubbish. When his ears had stopped ringing, he tried to lift his head- and groaned. It felt like giants had been using it for Bludger practice.

Shaking with shock and pain, James slowly pulled himself up, and ran a hand through his hair, knocking out any clear splinters. Then pulled out his wand, just as Louis and Fred arrived, eyes wide with surprise and confusion. But he ignored them. There was something important he wanted answered...

"Why..." he wheezed through an aching mouth "...why were you...sending those letters?"

He put his hand up to his lip- it came away stained poppy red.

Benedict drew in a deep breath- possibly of defiance, but which turned to anxiety as soon as he saw three wands waiting to jinx him into jelly. "I...it's my grandma. Dolores Umbridge." He gasped. "She...asked me. She said I...I could have a Blur! It didn't hurt anyone..." He cast Bambi-eyes at James. "And anyway...she said you needed...taking down a peg or two!"

"_Why did she do that?" _Louis demanded, blue eyes blazing sapphire.

"She...wanted to know...where the Stone was." Ben had lost even the pretence of bravery, and was now cowering. "Don't jinx me! I'll tell you anything."

"Tell me why you got Sorted into Gryffindor." Fred said disgustedly. He walked over to James and held out his hand. Slowly, James let himself be pulled to his feet. He couldn't seem to stop shaking.

"And we'll have that, cheers." Louis leant over and plucked the letter out of Umbridge's hand. "Don't mess with the Potter-Weasley clan! Hi-yah! And, next time...I'd rat on someone who isn't totally awesome. Just a hint. C'mon, James. Let's go."


	14. That's What Friends Are For

**Hey, guys. Me again! Thanks for all your support- especially PoetinTraining157 (especially now it's been reworked- cheers!). The second half has been reworked pretty drastically, so...recommended reading! If you have any thoughts- do you like it or not?- please review! Then I can make it better! Thanks! :)  
**

Louis practically dragged James back to the Common Room, almost spitting the password at an extremely offended Fat Lady, who ruffled her skirts angrily before stalking off into Painting Limbo to find her friend Violet. Once the Portrait Hole had opened, he then almost lifted James bodily off the ground to climb through, forcing him to make a kind of girly skip to clear the lintel.

It was evening, and therefore the Common Room was extremely crowded. A crackling log fire blazed in the grate, its cosy warmth enhanced by the rich red-and-gold tapestries and the low chatter of Gryffindor House, who were either playing Exploding Snap, moaning about homework but not actually doing any, or gossiping over a nice hot mug of tea and Bertie Bott's cookies ('This time it's not Bertie's beans, 'cos cookies cause double the screams!').

The squishy armchairs by the fire were occupied, so Louis prodded the first years there out of their seats via a meaningful glare- they scattered like rabbits- and plonked James down in the oldest, fluffiest, most stuffing-falling-outest one. Fred sat on the armrest whilst Louis marched over to Victoire, Albus, Catrin and Alice by turns. Al ran straight to James' side on hearing that his older brother wanted to speak to him, and stared goggle-eyed at his split lip and battle wounds.

"Are you okay, James? What happened?"

"Mmph." James mumbled. He felt rather like he was watching his own body from the air above his head. Everything was shaded in extremely bright, unrealistic colours and noises were stuffy and muffled.

"_Duw..._he looks like death warmed up. Do we need to get him to Madam Pomfrey?" That was Catrin's voice. James glared at her half-heartedly. Why did she have to use another language all the time? Some people couldn't understand her!

"This should help." A clear glass of something appeared in front of him. It smelled strongly of spirits- so strongly, in fact, that to merely suggest the word 'fire' to it would cause an explosion. "Drink, James Potter."

Well, who was he to refuse free alcohol? "Bottoms up." He toasted the crowd in front of him, before glugging it back in a way that a seasoned alcoholic would be proud of. He regretted it almost immediately- it burned down his throat in rivers of flame, and he almost choked. The Firewhiskey did its work well, though, as his head cleared almost immediately- once it had stopped spinning, that was.

"Hannah Longbottom's prized Firewhiskey." Louis said proudly. "Can't tell you how much effort I put into getting that. Let's just say it involved an angry Niffler and several pots of leprechaun gold."

"Shut up, Louis." Victoire snapped. James glanced up- though his head protested vigorously, the Firewhiskey had stopped the cotton-wool feeling- to see his cousin, red-gold hair streaming down her back, staring at her brother with extreme annoyance.

"Okay, okay." Louis said. "Right, James. We need you to tell us absolutely everything you know about what happened at the Platform. And that includes what happened with Umbridge just now. Think of us as...Agony Aunts. But not wearing pink fluffy cardigans, and not middle-aged. Actually, not Agony Aunts. Cool, sexy Agony Busters!"

"Not the's' word! Please!" Fred begged, but James glanced up belligerently. The alcohol was doing wonders for his self-confidence.

"Why should I say anything?" He demanded of the group.

"Cause, frankly, you dug yourself into a humdinger of a hole and you need your treasured friends and associates to dig you out of it. Aka, _moi." _Louis poked himself in the chest extremely proudly.

James sighed. The fight left him like sand pouring through someone's fingers. Obviously the drink hadn't been _that _alcoholic. "Alright, alright. Fine. Don't faint, will you. Okay. I got the first letter in September, just before school..." Briefly, he outlined everything he'd found out, gotten or suspected during the past half year to his friends, who looked more incredulous by the second. Albus flumped heavily onto James' other armrest; Louis and Victoire took the floor, and Alice, the Jordan girl, Catrin and Valerian- no, Valerie!- somehow managed to squeeze themselves onto a rather battered old sofa.

"Woah." Fred said, finally, once James had finished spewing out his life story to the massed crowd. "Why didn't you tell me 'bout the letters, mate?" His voice held an odd, flat tone to it- James risked a glance upwards and saw that Fred was trying his best to cover up his disappointment. Looking around, he saw the same sort of expressions etched on the faces of his other friends.

"Sorry." James said earnestly. "Didn't really want to scare anyone with the horror of my life."

"Yes, it contains more thrills than Final Destination." Louis said solemnly. "Yes, James, we're going to run the previously unattained ten-second mile in order to get away from your troubles."

James pressed his lips together, hurt.

"Soo..." Catrin said slowly, pressing her palm into her forehead. "So. James was getting letters from Slimy Creep- sorry, Toadiness Personified Benedict- to get bribes of broomsticks from his Granny. Also someone pulled a chandelier on top of James. Granny wants to find out where the Resurrection Stone is because she wants- I guess- control in the Ministry. So does a crack squad of wizard ninjas headed by an ex-Ministry worker. Someone's been sent to Hogwarts-probably by Umbridge- to also find out where the Stone is- but we don't know who sent him though James thinks he's Dawlish. That everything?"

"Not just a pretty face." Mary said, stretching out on the sofa, her dark braids outlined by the firelight.

"No." Agreed Catrin. "Although that's part of my irrestible charm. What do we do now, then?"

Everyone looked at her.

"Well, we can't sit here all night, can we? I mean, we have to find the Stone before the others do!"  
"She's right." Fred frowned. "Well, I don't really want to have Umbridge put the dead at her command! She could get personal lessons off Voldemort or something!"

"We could set up a watch." Al volunteered, eyes shining. "Isn't there a House Elf called Winky in the kitchens that Dad knows?"

"What's a 'House Elf'?" Catrin asked uncertainly, and everyone exchanged incredulous glances. "Never mind!" She said hastily.

"I've got something that will help with that."James suddenly said, and took the Marauder's Map from his back pocket. Apart from Fred, everyone looked confusedly at the blank piece of parchment until he tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

As the black lines twisted across the page, the jaws of Victoire, Louis, Alice, Albus, Catrin and Mary hit the floor with a clang. "What the-James, is this a map of the school?"

"Yup." James couldn't help but feel the tiniest glow of smugness at the expressions on his friends' faces. "Nicked- I mean, borrowed it from Dad last September."

"This is awesome." Al breathed, bending over the moving ink. His vivid green eyes scanned it excitedly. "So _that's _how you and Fred managed to avoid the teachers every time!"

"Er-yeah." James was conscious of Victoire's glass-shattering gaze directed his way, and quickly moved on. "Anyway, this is a good way of making sure that Dawlish is behaving himself."

"Can we do a secret handshake or something?" Al piped up enthusiastically.

"If you like." Fred extended his wand solemnly. Al reached up with his hand- but before he could do anything, there was a flash of purple and the hand was stained green. "Hey!"  
James laughed, and absently rubbed his cheek- the green was gone, thankfully, but it had taken an awful lot of (shudder) washing to get it that way. He glanced around the Common Room- rain was pelting against the windows, but the atmosphere inside was one of cosiness and chatter. Safe. Enjoyable. And yet...rather boring. Life was dull without some excitement to liven it up, and this was probably about as exciting as it was going to get.

"So, are we in?" He asked.

Fred grinned suddenly- a wild, fierce grin- and brandished his wand emphatically. The chandelier creaked ominously, and several third-years screamed. "Are we in? Of course, you idiot! We're your friends! And don't friends go to stupidly long lengths for each other?"

"Well, we're stupid to try this. Three cheers for us!" Victoire said dryly.

* * *

Life at Hogwarts passed on in the way that life generally does, and as they struggled through February the ground unbogged itself and made an effort to look presentable in time for the first Quidditch match of the season. James was extremely relieved- classes had been getting stifling. Dawlish's self-defence lessons were starting next Tuesday, which was something. Potions involved Merrythimble's constant friendliness, which was starting to get embarrassing, Astronomy had given both him and Fred sore necks, and in Transfiguration James had missed the mouse he was aiming for and given Fred a rather fetching button nose and whiskers, complete with white fur.

"What have you done to my _nose_?" Fred squeaked in horror as James rocked backwards and forwards, gripped in paroxysms of giggles. "It's..._twitching! James, you've made me into a humouse_!"

"Now, now, what's happening?" Professor Patil stalked up to where the two boys were sitting, and saw the problem immediately. Although she tried hard to prevent it, a smile crept onto her face and she giggled, once, before she could stop herself.

Fred, who by now was attracting the attention of most of the class, squeaked again in protest. Then he started sniffing his pencilcase.

"That's quite enough of that, Mr Weasley! We try and tame students at Hogwarts, not turn them into sniffing idiots!" Professor Patil waved her wand, and Fred's nose regained its usual, freckly form. "And as for you, Mr Potter." She added, regarding James sternly. "I would appreciate it if you didn't practice human transfiguration on your friends. Humice are generally frowned upon in polite society."

And with that, she stalked away, accompanied by the trill of the bell. James shoved Fred's things in his bag for him, and together, they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch, bickering amiably about whether or not Professor Patil would make a good humouse herself. Catrin joined them halfway down, under the pretext that Mary was busy flirting with some random third year named Bertie Cattermole, just in time to put forward the interesting concept of turning it into a fully-fledged prank.

This debate took them to outside the library. Just as Fred started to come around to the idea, though, a bolt of scarlet zoomed past James' left ear- so close that he felt the breeze ruffle his hair- and hit Catrin squarely in the chest. She shot sideways like a puppet, crashing into the tapestry on the wall with a crunch and sliding down to hit the floor.

Shock froze James to the floor for one precious, crucial instant- then Fred grabbed his arm and yanked sideways. He staggered sideways just in time to avoid the second Stunner, which hit a nearby painting and scorched a hole right through it.

"Bloody hell!" Fred gasped next to him, eyes wide. "Who- what-"

"There!" James pointed down the corridor, where the light fell on the partially-hidden faces of Macnair And Assorted Cronies™. All of them had obviously come out of the library, and had their wands out; all of them looked like they were ready to do some serious damage. What were they doing? Why were they doing it now?

Well, all his and Fred's pranks were bound to have wound them up at some point. They would just have to try and defend themselves. James cast a fleeting look towards Catrin. She wasn't moving- and he couldn't spare Fred to have a look at her. This'd have to be quick.

He glanced sideways at Fred. "Ready?"

His friend nodded. Unconsciously, they drew closer together, presenting a solid front (of two) to the Slytherins. James was privately very glad that he had Fred with him- the fact that they'd known each other since childhood meant that they each had an almost telepathic understanding of each other's actions, and, since first year, this had come in extremely handy in any kind of fight.

Macnair advanced. James guessed that he was the one with a bone to pick, though he didn't seem particularly angry.

"Potter and Weasley." He called to them. "I've got a message for you shrimps."

James scowled. Nobody insulted his height- it was a sore point! And as for Catrin... "You didn't have to attack our friend to get it through to us!" He yelled.

"Look, Macnair, back off." Fred glanced sideways at his Welsh friend's prone body. "You hurt our friend- the message is gonna have to wait."

"Oh, really? What a shame. Look, I didn't mean to hit your friend. I just wanted to get your attention, and the spell hit her by accident."

"You can tell her," Belby's sallow face bobbed up from behind, "that Gwenog Jones isn't going to help her now!"  
"Well, you've got our attention. Now, could you please hurry up?" James asked politely.

"Ha, ha. Listen closely, Potter." Macnair advanced down the corridor, stalking towards the two boys. It took all of James' willpower to stop himself from cursing him to a jellyfish, but he resisted the urge. After all, he'd get a better aim the closer the Slytherins got. It was like a Western movie shoot-out scene- all that was missing was the saloon and corny accents.

Eventually, the two groups faced each other. James spotted Scorpius' sleek blond head, creased with worry, behind Belby's greasy one, and grimaced at him. At least he could count on that particular Slytherin not to attack without thinking first- he was friends with Catrin, too.

"This had better be quick." James told Macnair, putting on his best tough-boy act. He could deal with the Slytherins whilst Fred went to check on their friend. Was she hurt...? He hoped not. "Fred. Go check on Catrin." Fred, ever the Healer, nodded once, quickly, and sprinted over to where her prone body lay. James spared her a glance- was it bad that she wasn't moving?

To his everlasting surprise, Macnair hesitated, then stowed his wand inside his robes pocket- the wizarding equivalent of putting your hands in the air. James bit his lip, and then did the same. Now both were unarmed.

"Okay, Potter, listen closely. We've got to bury our differences here. This is the message. Whatever you might think, Dawlish is on your side. He wants what you want- to get some stone or other before the Ministry or Warbeck do- he's been assigned by an Order or something to get to it before them. Maybe your dad's, I dunno. He didn't say. He needs your help. Do us a favour and arrange a meeting with him."

"_What_?" James gasped. This was mind-blowing. All of his thoughts, suspicions- false? What a blow to his ego! Though..."How do we know we can trust you? How do you know this? How do you know what we want?"

Macnair sighed, and pushed a faded newspaper clipping at James. James was so surprised that he took it- but felt like kicking himself immediately. Was it cursed? Could you curse newspaper clippings? He didn't trust Macnair to bury his differences, just like that.

"Why are you working for him?"

"We're not, Potter. He asked us to bring you a message; we did some research of our own. We know about the Resurrection Stone. We're not _stupid, _whatever you might think."

James swallowed his smart answer with difficulty.

"But there's someone else- he's dangerous. He used to be in the Ministry, but was kicked out. He killed the owls to stop the Ministry from finding out about anything. He's in Hogwarts, and he's out to get you, because you know about the whereabouts of the Stone. Hey, don't look at me like that! _I _didn't say you know where it is, did I? You look like you don't know, Potter. Anway, he used to be called Warbeck, but he changed his name. So, who you really need to watch out for is-"

"What's all this?"

Merrythimble's voice boomed like a foghorn through the corridor. James looked around in horror- only to see that Professor Merrythimble had appeared like a ghost out of the library, glaring at the Slytherins like they had announced their intentions to become Voldemorts-in-training.

"Nothing...nothing, sir!" Was that Macnair? He sounded absolutely terrified, but Merrythimble was by far the least scary of the Hogwarts Professors. Apparently even a law-abiding teacher was enough to strike terror into the hearts of rule breakers, especially as it looked rather like Macnair and his gang were mugging James and Fred. Detentions were imminent... James peered covertly at the Slytherins, most of whom looked petrified. One- he thought it was Parkinson- was sneaking off down the corridor, unnoticed by the professor.

"Nothing? Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again."

"Er..."

"What's in your pocket, boy?"

"Nothing! Honestly, sir!"

"Come with me."

"No!"

"_Come!" _

Macnair looked sideways at James, almost apologetically. "Sorry again about your friend." He said, and followed Merrythimble down the corridor.

James let out a deep breath- one of relief, though he couldn't have said why. His blood was still thrumming from the tense standoff, adrenaline pulsing and setting his senses on hyperalert. He grinned, exhilarated-

"Catrin looks alright, James."

He jumped, and looked sideways. Fred was kneeling next to her body, taking her pulse, his freckled forehead creased in concentration. He felt a sudden stab of guilt. How _had_ he forgotten her?

"Come on, then." He said, sighing. "Let's get her to the Hospital Wing, quick."


	15. The Two Teachers

**Hey! Here's another chapter. The plot thickens...oooh!**

The weekend whizzed past- thanks to trying to unblock the Macnair Mystery, to no avail, and the ever-present burden of homework- and now James could start counting down to the first Gryffindor Quidditch match of the season, which was scheduled for the next weekend. Ravenclaw had beaten Hufflepuff by a fifty-goal margin last Sunday, which meant that if Gryffindor could clinch a hundred-point margin against Slytherin, they'd be making it to a strong position on the top of the table...

Today, though, it was Tuesday evening, and time for the first self-defence lesson that James had been able to make it to for a while- might as well scope out the enemy. Today was also, incidentally, the day that Catrin had been released from the Hospital Wing, and for some reason, she had determined to come as well. To be honest, that was an extreme relief- after they'd carted her up to the Hospital Wing, it had taken her two full days to wake up, but once that had happened, life had most certainly not been quiet for the staff there. Furious at being jinxed, angry at being left out of the action, and annoyed that Madam Pomfrey had issued a week-long sick notice, Catrin had tried to keep herself busy by both trying (and failing) to read anything and everything, and by irritating her carers. James and Fred had visited once, but had both agreed 'never again', until she was well and truly cured, and her mood had improved drastically.

The class had, if anything, grown over the past couple of weeks- there were now about forty people perched on desks, studying Dawlish gravely. He guessed that the incident on the Hogwarts Express had frightened quite a few people. At the moment, though, Dawlish's monotonous lecture on _Expelliarmus_ wasn't doing much for his interest- his dad had taught him that one last summer holiday.

"...so, the important thing to remember is that when you're casting, always keep a clear head. Never get distracted. Never lose concentration. In the words of an old friend of mine, CONSTANT VILIGANCE!"

Dawlish's bellow made the entire class jump, and one or two even shouted in surprise.

"Potter, Weasley." He said suddenly. "You look like you're paying attention. Come up here and show the class how it's done."

Fred and James exchanged gleeful glances.

"Alrighty, sir."

They took the space which had been cleared in the middle of the classroom, amidst the piles of desks and chairs. Fred drew his wand, James his. Fred did a complicated little wand twirl for effect. Not to be outdone, James made red sparks shoot out of his, making half the girls scream.

"Get on with it, boys! Don't say you didn't learn the spell!"

Why did the ex-Auror have to sound so happy about their lack of paying attention? James supposed he was getting back at them for their wandering minds during so many Defence lectures.

Well, they'd show him.

James spun on the spot, releasing his Disarming spell at Fred, who did an impressive ballerina leap out of the way, before retaliating. James pretended to dither, and leapt out of the way at the last moment. Fred squealed with delight and clapped his hands, jumping up and down on the floorboards.

"THIS IS NOT A DANCE SCHOOL AND YOU ARE NOT TRAINED MONKEYS!" Dawlish roared at the two boys over the class' laughter. His head had gone an impressive beetroot colour- James held his breath. Was he about to reveal his true colours?- before he took a deep breath, and, with a visible effort, calmed himself.

"Right. Potter, take centre stage with me. You want show off some fancy wandwork? You can show off all you like here."

Oh, no.

James boggled at Fred, who boggled right back. Dawlish was going to kill him! Now! In front of everyone!

"Erm...I'm sure that that's not really necessary. You're going to beat me anyway, sir."

Dawlish frowned at him. "This isn't only to take you down a few pegs, Potter. This is so the class can see a proper duel, for once."

"They won't see a proper duel if you beat me immediately." James pointed out. "You'll knock me out, sir! And I'm quite fond of not having my facial features rearranged."

Or letting Catrin see him having his facial features rearranged.

But Dawlish wasn't going to be moved. "No, come on, Potter. Or I'll deduct fifty house points from Gryffindor."

Whoa, that was hitting way below the belt! All the Gryffindors, as one, sucked in a shocked breath, and the tension in the room suddenly thickened like cold custard. James squared his shoulders. That was settled, then. He wasn't going to have the entire house turn on him- not if he wanted to survive until tomorrow. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. He really hoped that Dawlish would leave him alive and unmaimed.

"Alright."

As one, they raised their wands. Also as one, the entire class took a gigantic step backwards, probably figuring out that an Auror, plus Harry Potter's headstrong son, plus an awful lot of dislike and distrust probably wasn't the best combination for a gentle, safe duel. James, despite himself, felt extremely uneasy without the solid presence of Fred at his shoulder. Where was his defence system?

But then there was no time for any more thought, just action.

Dawlish attacked without warning, swinging his wand with blinding speed and sending a Stunner hurtling towards James, whose hastily-cast Shield Charm only partially blocked it and sent him stumbling backwards a couple of steps.

The Auror immediately followed that up with another spell which grazed the top of James' head, singeing it. James frantically felt his hair- please, no, not burnt!- before ducking almost flat to the floor to the sound of the class' laughter.

He hastily cast an extra-strong 'Protego' before surveying his options. Dawlish didn't look very murderous at the moment, which he guessed was a blessing. In fact, unless James was very much mistaken (which he could be), he looked more interested than angry.

James aimed for his teacher with a Stunning spell- the only time it was actually acceptable to jinx your teacher, and he was botching it! Dawlish dodged, but was almost hit with a follow-up Leglocker Curse. He stumbled slightly, and James' Stunner caught him on the shoulder, throwing him off balance. James skipped backwards a few steps, every nerve buzzing. The next spell could come at any time-

The next spell hit him square in the chest with a horrible crunch. For a moment, James hung there, almost motionless- and then he flew backwards across the room and crashed onto the wooden boards to the music of the class' laughter. Every nerve in his body screamed in protest and he gasped for air like a drowning man.

Just then, the bell rang.

James closed his eyes in humiliation as the floorboards vibrated with the tramp of forty feet leaving the classroom. He'd lost the fight. In front of his classmates. Tomorrow was going to be _hell _on his ego.

"You okay, Potter?"

A hand appeared in front of his line of vision. James painfully reached for it, and winced as Fred winched him up.

Only it wasn't Fred, it was Dawlish.

James scowled at his teacher- he wasn't quite ready to accept defeat gracefully.

So he was surprised when the other man offered him a sheepish grin. "Not bad, James Potter. You lasted longer than I'd thought you would."

"Er- thanks."

Awkward!

"Just one tip." Dawlish handed James his wand back. "Constant vigilance! You're not alert enough- you get cocky after one shot, and leave your defence open. Work on that one, Potter."

James nodded, and turned to leave. Well, he hadn't been killed.

"Sir…did you speak to the Slytherins on Monday?"

Dawlish looked at him impassively. "I did. I dealt with them. Double detention- never you mind. I wanted to speak to you, anyway, Mr Potter."

Oh? James half-turned from collecting his bag, and stared Dawlish straight in the eyes.

"Your father is coming to give a talk in three weeks' time. I'd advise you to warn him about what's happening in Hogwarts at the moment."

"I will."

* * *

So, the Slytherins were helping Dawlish, who was apparently on their side. And if that wasn't confusing enough, there was a random killer running around Hogwarts, the identity of whom was still as shady as a...well, shady thing. And he was trying to kill James. And he wanted to find the Resurrection Stone. And...and...

And it was pretty mind-boggling, really.

"I just don't understand." Fred confided in James, one chilly Potions lesson. The creeping warmth of spring had not yet spread to the dungeons, which felt like the inside of a refrigerator. The entire class were practically hugging their cauldrons to try and leach some warmth from their Shrinking Solutions- this had already led to some pretty nasty accidents, one involving a temper tantrum and a newly-shrunk pinhead. Though, technically, Hugo Downsen had never been top of the class.

"Hmm?" James asked absently, wrestling with a stubborn root.

"I said, genius, are the Slytherins working for Dawlish?"

James pursed his lips. "Dunno. They said something about it being useful for them. Maybe they want to bully him for a million galleons!"

"Good luck- Dawlish will make mincemeat out of them."

"Should we ask 'em about who the supposed evil killer is? Though you know that they could just be having us on. They stunned Catrin, didn't they- how's she doing, by the way?"

"She's raising hell in the Hospital Wing." James told him. She had indeed.

Fred snickered, and at that exact moment Professor Merrythimble walked past.

"Now, now, boys." He said reprovingly. "How's your Shrinking Solution coming along?"

"Er- fine, fine!" James said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. Trying to look as though he knew what he was doing, he tipped a handful of chopped mixed roots into the cauldron. Immediately after they sank beneath the surface, it turned violently green and began hissing.

"Oh, dear." Their teacher sighed. "I told you only to add daisy roots, boys. If you drank this, it'd vaporise your insides..._evaneso." _He waved his wand over the spitting cauldron, and the potion vanished with a _pop. _

"What did you do with the Slytherins on Monday, sir?" Fred asked, casually ruffling his coppery hair.

"Took them to see Professor Dawlish. I hope you haven't taken their words to heart- he's given them a severe talking-to."

"No, 'course not."

"Good, good. Well, five points from Gryffindor for refusing to listen to my root instructions, boys. You'd better go."

"Awesome!"

As they left, they bumped into Macnair, heading towards the dank passageway to the Slytherin Common Room. He sneered at them, and made to shove past, but James seized his wrist.

"What the- Potter, if you don't let go of my sleeve then I'll put you in Hospital as well as your friend!"

"Macnair. Who did you say was the person that was trying to kill me?" James asked urgently, tightening his grip. The other boy just stared at him blankly.

"Half of Slytherin house, for one. Potter, let go!"

"What were you talking about on Monday?"

"I didn't! _Let go!" _

Macnair's other hand crept towards his robe pocket, but James stared at him, long and hard. Was he lying? But why? It certainly didn't seem like it- nobody was that good an actor, even Macnair.

He tried one last time. "Come on, Macnair! You talked to us on Monday- outside the library, you know! Why did Dawlish give you that message?"

"If you don't let me go, I'll give you such bad boils that you won't be able to walk for two weeks, Potter." A long, thin stick of wood was suddenly aimed alarmingly at James' left nostril. Sensing danger, he let go sharpish, and Macnair almost ran down the corridor, pausing only to spit a '_Freak!' _back at the two boys.

"What in the name of Merlin's pyjama party was that about?" Fred asked, completely bewildered.

"Search me." James balled his fists."What's wrong with him? He's acting like he's completely forgotten everything!"

"D'you remember what Dad said about that batty teacher in his second year- you know, the one that wrote the books that Grandma Weasley loves."  
"Gilderoy...Blockhart?"

"Blockhead, more like. He tried to obliviate your dad and Uncle Ron, down in the Chamber of Secrets."

James knew all about this story- it was one of his father's favourites. It was one of his lifetime ambitions to make it down there someday.

"Reckon that's what happened to Macnair?"

"It would make sense. Kind of." Fred sighed deeply, leaning between a pair of flickering torches. Their golden light cast shifting shadows on his face as he regarded James solemnly. "So. Was it Dawlish, or Merrythimble?"

"_Merrythimble_?" James laughed incredulously. "And the rest! Why would _he _want the Stone?"

"Duh. Infinite power! Now we'll never know who's out for a little bit of necromancy. It's the latest trend- raising the dead is a favourite pastime of mine."

"Ah, well...hey, find out anything about your namesake?" James had only just remembered- with a guilty start- about Fred's own wish to find out about his dead uncle.

Fred bit his lip. "Not an awful lot...Dad won't say much about him. Nothing, in fact."

"Hey, maybe if we find the Stone, we'll be able to talk to him!" Feeling bad for his friend- and mad at himself for his lack of being one- James slung an arm around his cousin's shoulders. "You're much cooler than the old one was, anyway."

Fred's mouth twitched upwards. "You think?"

"Definitely. Who else would have the guts to turn a pair of girls into neon-haired, barking morons?"

This mention of their first-year prank competition with (who else?) Catrin and Mary Jordan lightened the mood considerably, and it was with a great deal of relief that James put the Macnair Mystery out of his mind...for now, anyway.

But now the Slytherins had had their minds wiped, and either Dawlish or Merrythimble was responsible.

So, who should they trust?


	16. A Calamitous Match

"James...Jamie-wamie...wake up..."

"Ngrgghhh."

"James...open your eyes. Sun is shining. Clouds are clouding."

"Gowayleamelone."

A pause.

"James wake up or I swear you're going to lose the Quidditch match of the century!"

Ugh?

Hang on- WHAT?!

James forced open his eyes to meet the wide emerald ones of his brother. "Whatchootalkinbout?"

"Well, you are due to take to the skies in about..." Albus waved at him, and checked his watch. "...fifteen minutes, I'd say. "

"Oh no..." James moaned, as the reality hit home- and left him wide awake. He leapt out of his four poster and staggered from the head rush, and then began to run madly around the room, hunting for his Gryffindor Quidditch robes.

"I guess you want to ask why I didn't wake you up."Al commented, watching with his unnervingly green eyes as James hopped past, trying to force his school hat onto his foot. "You need to put a sock on that bit, by the way."

"Grnrg."

"Well, I thought that you were much more prepared than you are, and you were already down at the field. And then Smith started shouting at me- he's _loud, _I don't like him. Anyway, I ran upstairs and you were drooling on to your mattress."  
"Drool? I never drool. Right, come here, Baby." James snatched Baby out from underneath the bed and sprinted downstairs, Al following close behind. The Common Room, awash with the cold blue light of day, was absolutely deserted. "I'm not going to make it down in time, am I?"

"Nope."

James scratched his chin. "Unless..." he pushed open the Portrait Hole, leaving a clear run down the corridor beyond. He stretched out his hand, and Baby leapt into the air. "Hop on, Al."

Al caught on immediately- of course. There was no such thing as a stupid Potter!- and his eyes crinkled with worry. "Do we have to?"

"Don't be a wuss. Let's go break the sound barrier."

Al sighed- and then unwillingly smiled, hopping on behind his elder brother. With the two boys on, the Nimbus sagged a little, but stayed floating. James flexed his fingers, cracking the joints one by one. Might as well warm up now.

Then he gripped the handle and accelerated it for all he was worth.

The broom trembled for a moment- and then took off down the passageway like a bat out of hell. The stonework blurred around them, one suit of armour melted into the next one-

"TURN RIGHT!" Al screeched in his ear. James heaved backwards and for a moment they swung up until they were horizontal, feet brushing the window pane- and then they were off again.

"WOOHOOOOOOOO!" Screaming blurs of red, blue, green and yellow vanished behind them at lightning speed as they zipped down the staircases and past deserted classrooms. James grinned, exhilaration and the wind forcing a wild smile onto his face.

When the staircases came into view, they barely hesitated, nosediving straight down, the wind roaring in their ears harmonising with the yells from the portraits and students. Al yelled; the sound was whipped away by the wind as he gripped James' waist in a death clamp.

"PULL LEVEL JAMES OR I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Spoilsport." James wrenched the handle upwards, and the broomstick righted itself effortlessly. They swooped down the Grand Staircase and into the Entrance Hall, braking just shy of the large double doors so suddenly that both of them toppled forwards onto the hard stone flags.

"Time?" James gasped from the bottom of the pile of wood and Albus.

"Er...you have ten minutes to get down to the Quidditch pitch."

"That much? What a rollercoaster ride!" James whooped with glee from his squished position on the floor.

"Next time, I'll take the staircase." Al mumbled.

* * *

The sky was cool and clear; the ground frozen rock solid. Everyone's breaths made plumes of fog in the air, and vision was excellent. In short, the conditions were absolutely perfect for Gryffindor's March match against Slytherin.

"Right, team." Circe announced loudly over the hubbub. "Captain's talking. Go on, Monty, sweetie."

Monty sweetie took one solemn look at the team, and clapped his hands together. "Team. You may be the most annoying, snarky, over-enthusiastic, whiny group of ragtag Quidditch players I've ever taught..."

"Hear, hear." Louis mumbled.

"...but you can all (thankfully) fly, and when you're on form, you do it damn well. I don't need to remind you how important this match is- Slytherin are our main rivals, after all- so I want you all to give a hundred and fifty percent today."

"Smith, you flatter us." Mary called from across the Changing Room, winking one grey eye at Louis. James watched his cousin slowly colour up with more than a little interest. Well, well, well!

"Well, sometimes you deserve it." Their captain grinned. "Come on. Who's gonna beat the greens?"

"NOT US!" Jonathan Mirk roared, brandishing his Keeper's gloves enthusiastically.

"Be off with you! Let's hear it again. Who's going to beat Slytherin?"

"US!"

"That's the team I know." Smith smiled ruefully to himself. "Best of luck, folks. Oh, by the way, Potter, Professor McGonagall wants to see you afterwards. Something about irresponsible use of broomsticks in the corridors. I would have defended you, but...it seemed rather too much like you to argue with."

James shrugged, and as the team started chatting again, Louis leaned closer to him. "Have you spoken to Umbridge since...well, you found about the letters?"

"Nope." James said firmly. "I don't want to talk to him for a very long time."

In truth, he hadn't seen much of Benedict Umbridge since he'd smashed him into the corridor, and what little he had had been composed mainly of skulking at the backs of classrooms. Fred had guessed that he was too cowardly to apologise to his was probably right. Well, James wasn't talking to him until he did.

"Anyway, what's with you and Mary Bell?"

Louis flushed beetroot and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything more than "And what do you-" the door onto the pitch opened and blinding sunlight flooded the cramped room.

Biting his lip nervously, James stood up with the rest of the team. "You first." He said politely to Alice (who followed Louis' example by blushing a delicate rose pink) and walked onto the pitch to tumultuous applause. James scanned the crowd for his friends, but his eyesight let him down yet again- all he could see was a blurry block of red and gold.

"Captains, shake hands!" Madam Hooch- who had been in Hogwarts for donkey's years- shouted. Smith and Belby obligingly crushed each other's fingers.

"Three..." The Bludgers rocketed skywards.

"Two..." The crowd roared as the Snitch swept upwards.

"One!" The scarlet Quaffle punched through the sky, and the players kicked off. The game was on!

James kicked off- hard- and let the breeze rake its fingers through his messy hair and blow cold hair across his face.

Immediately, he dived forwards into the scrum, hoping to snatch the Quaffle, but no-! Smith was already there, zooming forwards. James waved to Mary, and together they streaked off down the pitch. Not for long, though- the Slytherins were already following in a blur of green and silver, and already a heavy iron Bludger was rocketing towards them. James was forced to do a Sloth-Grip Roll, and Smith dived spectacularly before Circe zoomed inwards and struck it back at the Beater (a particularly ugly fellow called Goyle, who roared in troll-like pain as the Bludger slammed into his arm).

James managed- more out of luck than anything else- to snatch the Quaffle as it soared towards him, and already they were heading towards the goal hoops, where the Keeper, Corner, was bobbing up and down nervously. James slung it towards Mary, who neatly posted it through the left-most hoop.

"GOAL!" James yelled, looping the loop as it soared through the golden circle.

Now they were actually playing Slytherin, he was glad of the extra practise Smith had drummed into them- the Gryffindor team moved fluidly, solidly, following game plans to the second and co-ordinating in a way that had them four goals up in twenty. And they had to be this good. Slytherin played extremely well- fighting back to claim two goals- and weren't afraid to aim multiple Bludgers their way if necessary. Twice James had almost been hit, and Louis had taken a blow to the leg which looked particularly nasty.

About half an hour into the game he found himself squaring off against Belby, who did _not _look pleased to see him. Perhaps because James was trying not to be tackled by him.

"Er, hello, Belby. Fancy seeing you here."

Belby hesitated- and dived straight towards James, who panicked, pointed his broom handle downwards, and then started to pray.

The broom accelerated so quickly that Belby was left flying aimlessly towards the Gryffindor goalposts, with nobody to tackle. James, meanwhile, was wrestling his broom upwards, and hoping that it would start listening to him before he hit the ground.

"Come on, you stupid chunk of wood!" He growled underneath his breath. The ground rushed up to meet him- and at the very last minute, the Nimbus levelled off, leaving his toes skimming the turf. James leaned over and kissed the smooth wood.

"Thank you, thank you, Baby!"

That just left a whole lot of Slytherins to face, one of which- Goyle- was heading his way, brandishing the heavy Beater's club in one hand and a fistful of broomstick in the other. James swerved to avoid him, and soared upwards towards the golden hoops, wind whistling in his ears. He grinned to himself- he'd already scored a goal; the adrenaline rush was incredible- and adjusted his grip on the scarlet Quaffle.

He glanced around to get his bearings- and something caught his eye. As low down to the ground as he was, he could clearly see the Changing Room where the Slytherins had come out of- a mass of silver and green. And, just beyond the entrance, a figure in a black cloak, which had its wand out. James stared at it- who was _that_? Who were they aiming for?

"LOOK OUT, POTTER!"

Huh?

James peeked sideways- too late! The iron Bludger rocketed straight towards his head with the force of a wrecking ball. James widened his eyes, glanced helplessly at it-

It ploughed into his head.

The whole world blinked off.

James didn't even feel falling off his broom.

* * *

"...he be okay?"

"Give him a minute, Mirk! Healing is an imprecise art at the best of times."

"Can't you do anything?"

"_Put that wand away, boy-"_

The room gradually swam into foggy awareness above James, revealing a whole lot of people looming above him. He couldn't tell who- their faces all looked a little like hazy, floating moons above a mass of gold and scarlet.

"It's..._alive_!" cried one moon which sported a ginger bit on top. James blinked, and everything resolved itself into the gold-and-scarlet-clad members of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, plus Fred, Catrin and Victoire. All of them cracked huge grins upon seeing that he was awake.

"Well, it's surprising he's alive after that." Huffed Madam Pomfrey, elbowing a waving Jonny Mirk out of the way. "How does your head feel, Potter?"

James attempted to lift it off his pillow- and then stopped, wincing. "Sore. Heavy."

"You'd best stay in for a night or two, then. Won't be a moment." She hobbled off towards her office, leaving James with his friends.

"Did we win?" He asked immediately, gazing around at the looming faces.

"Thanks to you- in a way- yes." Smith stepped forwards, rat-like face pleased. "Once you got knocked out, everyone was so fixated on you that Alice managed to swipe the Snitch without the Slytherin Seeker noticing."

Alice, who had so far said nothing, bit her lip. James grinned at her. "Glad to know I was helpful."

She went red and smiled hesitantly back, though James had to stop himself from frowning in irritation. What was wrong with her? Couldn't she do anything but go beetroot? She'd had full possession of her vocal faculties last year!

"My leg's been patched up, too. Look." Louis demonstrated, pulling up his trouser leg to reveal a thick plaster cast. "Isn't it lovely? I'll ask everyone to sign it and then I'll give it to Victoire as a Christmas present."

Victoire wrinkled her nose in disgust, and Louis, Fred and Jonny cracked up.

"Who hit the Bludger?" James asked, interestedly. It would be good to know who he had to get even with.

He was very surprised when Circe flushed a deep scarlet. "Er...actually...it was me." She confessed. Everyone's jaws dropped in disbelief. "I didn't mean to!" She cried, running her hands through her thick, blonde hair and tossing it back in a way that had Smith staring at her (Victoire sniffed disdainfully). "It kind of- well, it didn't listen to me. I hit it towards that thug- Mirian Zabini- and it just swerved backwards- like it was aiming for you!"

"Just like in Dad's second year, with that rogue Bludger." Al piped up. "It followed him around- like he was training for the ballet."

"Well? Were you training for the ballet, Potter?" Smith asked.

"Are you kidding? Dancing's girly."

"Suits you right to the ground, then." Fred chipped in. James scowled at him.

"Don't make me come over there and demonstrate my manliness by duffing you up."

"_Aaaaand _we'd better go now." Victoire said hastily, as Fred opened his mouth to retaliate. "See you tomorrow, cuz." And with that- and a whole lot of bossiness- she chivvied everyone from the Hospital Wing. James smiled at the force that was his cousin. Good looks combined with an alpha-male personality had every boy in Hogwarts drooling at her feet; it was a mystery that she had only dated Teddy- and that other boy in fifth year: Mark Davies, the Ravenclaw.

Left alone with his thoughts, James leaned back against the pillows, thinking about the hooded figure. He was pretty certain that it was the person who wanted him dead- either that, or Warbeck. Maybe...he sat bolt upright in bed as a lightbulb clicked on over his head- and then winced. Owch! His head!

Sinking back onto the bed, James waited until the pain faded, and then contemplated his lightbulb. What if Warbeck and the rogue teacher were...working together? Or, even better. What if they were the same person? That would work...he couldn't have gotten into the grounds without some kind of assistance that was for certain.

He couldn't have said why, but James felt the storm brewing above Hogwarts. The tension was growing, and things were going to come to a head- and soon.

He'd just have to be ready for it.


	17. Fireside Conversation

**Hey, guys. Sorry I haven't been on for a while; bit busy. Hope you like it- review, otherwise it can't get any better! Cheers :) **

James spent the night in the Hospital Wing despite his complaints (because the match had been a Saturday, he didn't even get to miss lessons!)- although a day in bed was very boring. Apparently, three generations of Potters had made great use of the Hospital Wing under Madam Pomfrey's care. There should really be a bed dedicated to them for outstanding service- and by the following evening of twiddling his thumbs he was deemed well enough by Madam Pomfrey to quit the Hospital Wing and go back to the Gryffindor Common Room under strict orders not to overdo himself. James chose to ignore that last bit and ran all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, gasping the password out to a very startled Fat Lady.

"Late homework?" She inquired haughtily as the frame swung forwards.

"Something like that." James grinned, and jumped through the Portrait Hole.

He was greeted by a roar of sound which blasted his eardrums like a gunshot and almost made him stagger backwards back out of the Common Room. He wasn't allowed to escape though; hands reached forwards and pulled him into the celebrations. James, head spinning, looked around at the grinning faces. It seemed as though all of Gryffindor House had turned up to party: the gold lion of Gryffindor hung absolutely everywhere and Butterbeer and Honeydukes sweets were doing the rounds in front of a roaring fire.

"W...why did nobody tell me about this?" James spluttered at a rather flushed Louis, who had tied his scarf around his neck and tie around his forehead.

"YOU WEREN'T THERE!" His cousin roared back, grinning cheerfully. James suspected that both of them were going to have a headache in the morning, but for very different reasons. "WE'RE CELEBRATING THE MATCH LATE!"

"Yoohoo." James muttered as he forced his way past Louis, who in any case had started to squeeze through the crowd towards an equally red-faced Mary Bell, and flumped down on the battered sofa next to Jonny Mirk and Al. Al gave his brother a dazzling smile on seeing him, and proudly introduced him to Jonny. James grinned, humouring him. "Hey, Jonny."

Jonny grinned at James, showing dazzlingly white teeth at him against the darker colour of his skin, and handed him a Butterbeer, which he accepted slightly guiltily.

"How's it going, James?"

"Good, good. Where did they get the Butterbeer from?"

Jonny leaned forwards confidentially. Instinctively, James copied him. Not to be outdone, Al copied James. "Don't tell Prof. Longbottom, but I popped down to Hogsmeade this morning and got the stuff. Needed to send an owl to my sister anyway."

"You have a sister?" James asked, intrigued. He'd never heard of her before.

"Yeah. Rosie. " Jonny grimaced. "She's the only relation who'll speak to me at the moment. It was her wedding yesterday. She's in disgrace too: she married a Pureblood. Ernie Macmillan the second, to be precise."

"Why is that bad?" Al wondered aloud. James agreed. The Macmillans were nice enough, and anyway, he'd always assumed that Jonny came from a magical family.

"Because he was a wizard. We're the only two wizards in a family of Muggles. Like Circe Coote and her sister, in fact, seeing as her dad's dead. My family are really superstitious and thought that we were cursed for ages. My grandma disinherited me after Rosie accidentally set the kettle on her when she was thirteen." He grinned. "And we only come from Yorkshire!"

"Oh. Er, well, congrats." James raised his glass to Jonny, before chugging it back in a way that would have made a seasoned alcoholic proud. Al grimaced, but Jonny gave him a round of applause when he'd finished, and, the ice suitably broken, together they all started to discuss the finer points of yesterday's match.

The party raged on enthusiastically through the night, and although James didn't get as involved as he'd like due to his newly-healed head, he was still called upon to re-enact the duel he'd had with Dawlish earlier that week, which he did with relish. It came to a boisterous end when Professor Longbottom marched in at around one, and tried yelling at the Gryffindors, only to end up accepting a drink himself and end up re-enacting the famous Nagini-killing scene with a fire poker.

"No, no," He said, at last, at two-thirty, standing up with difficulty, propping himself up with the fire poker and fending off Louis and Fred's attempts to ply him with another Butterbeer. "I really must go. Night, Alice! Don't...don't tell your mum about this! And you lot- to bed, before I call the Headmistress!"

Slowly, grumblingly, the Common Room gradually emptied. James had slept enough during the day in the Hospital Wing, and didn't feel sleepy at all, so he waved goodnight to a yawning Al and bleary-eyed Jonny, and settled down in front of the dying fire with a revised copy of Quidditch Through The Ages. He noticed Benedict Umbridge loitering casually by the entrance to the dorms, but gave him a cold stare that sent him scurrying up the staircase. Apologies first, then they could talk like nothing had happened.

He was just getting into the finer points of the Ludo Bagman Betting Scandal and the Wimbourne Wasps' fall from glory when there was a soft, slippered noise from the entrance to the dormitories. Turning around, James made out a blurry Catrin, hair rumpled around her head and puffy-eyed.

"Y'alright?" He asked her. He ran his hands through his hair, suddenly self-conscious.

She nodded, light accent heavier with tiredness. "Couldn't sleep. Too hyped."

"Same."

She moved closer to the embers and flopped down in a squishy armchair, which sagged by about thirty centimetres. "You mind?"  
"Naaah."

James felt obliged to (regretfully) put away his Quidditch book, and instead stared into the flickering fire, waiting for her to speak. Eventually, she did.

"James...you know how I asked you to talk about Sirius Black?"

James racked his brain and came up with a foggy, October memory. "Uh...yeah." Blimey, he was surprised she'd remembered. "Am I right to assume that you are now going to badger me about the aforesaid Black?"

"Is that alright?"

James pretended to think about it. "Erm...hard one...ooh...dunno...hey! Stop threatening me! Okay, okay!"

Catrin put the wand away. There was an expectant pause. James felt rather nervous.

"Er...what d'you want me to say?"

"Anything. What was he like?"

James rather thought his father would be better suited to this, but obligingly cudgelled his memory into some form of order. What had Dad said about him? "He was...reckless. Wild. Liked adventure, liked risk. Always in the thick of things, in the action. Hated being left out of anything. Him and my granddad were great pals, apparently."

"Really?" James checked her face for sarcasm, but there wasn't any. Weird. Why was she so interested? An idea was beginning to niggle at him, but he wasn't sure whether it was insane or genius.

"Yeah. I'm named for him, actually."

Catrin found this very funny. James scowled at her over her giggles. "What? Am I not handsome enough? Or am I too handsome, is that the problem?"

"No, no...Sorry, go on."

Slightly nettled, James scratched his head with _Quidditch, _and continued. "He loved to play practical jokes. He was an awesome duellist. He was an Animagus- could transform into an animal." He said hastily. "He turned into a huge black dog. And my granddad turned into a stag, and because their pal, Lupin, was a werewolf-"

"_Lupin?"_

"Yeah, Teddy's dad, Remus. He was a werewolf. Apparently, he was a lovely guy, too. Anyway, every time he transformed, they did too and ran through the grounds together in animal form. Best adventures ever! Moony, Padfoot, Prongs...hey!"  
"What?"

"Those are the names on the map! Hang on, wait there!" Suddenly full of energy, James sprinted upstairs into his quiet dormitory and felt his way to his trunk. Flipping the lid, he drew out the old, battered piece of parchment which made up the Marauder's Map, and then zoomed back out again, pausing only to stub his toe extremely painfully on the foot of Hugo Downsen's four poster. Hugo stirred sleepily, muttered something which sounded like 'hamsters' and then rolled over back into sleep.

Once back downstairs, James let out the breath he'd been holding and tapped the map with his wand, muttering 'I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good' under his breath. Catrin watched as the twisting fingers of ink spread across the page, proclaiming, as James had thought it would, that 'Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs' had made the map.

"And?" She asked him confusedly.

"_And," _James grinned hugely. "And, my granddad made this map! And Sirius Black, and Teddy's dad! That's just...awesome! Wonder who 'Wormtail' is. Heh. Probably some creep. In fact, probably some ancestor of Benedict's!"

"_Sirius Black made the map?"_

"Yup. Cool, eh? Anyway- Catrin, why do you care so much about Sirius?"

She flushed instantly. "I don't."

"Yes," James said patiently (which was extremely unlike him), "You do. You ask me about him, you want to know everything about him. He was dead before you were born, Catrin! He's not alive, and he never met you! Is there some kind of close connection..."

He trailed off. Mainly because a lightbulb had popped into fluorescent life above his head and with it came the satisfaction of putting two and two together and coming out with four. "That's it, isn't it?" He asked her quietly, and with no small satisfaction. "He's family of some kind."

Catrin's face was flushed; she was breathing heavily and refusing to look away from his face. James was suddenly reminded of some kind of cornered animal, and took a hasty step backwards in case she decided to demonstrate her judo skills on him.

"You can't tell anyone."

"What? Why not?"

"Because he's my family, James, not yours."

"He's practically my family! He was the only father my dad ever had- you have to say something- it'd kill him not to know!"

Catrin jumped to her feet so she was level with James. He matched her stare for stare; he wouldn't be the one to look away first. She obviously felt the same way, though, and folded her arms emphatically. "He's _my _grandfather."  
"He's your _grandfather_?!"

James' head was spinning like a top. First the Resurrection Stone, then a teacher ninja, and now this? Crikey.

"You can't just keep something like that from my dad! He's got as much right to know as anybody!"

"You may think you're God's gift to the world, James Potter, but _you _have _no right _to poke around in my business! _Pam na wnewch__chi fynd__i uffern_!"

"You're right. Sorry. I'm not God's gift to the world."

Catrin's grey eyes widened. "Really?"

"No. Think of me as a donation with no strings attached. Get a grip, you hypocrite! You can't stop talking bloody Welsh to everyone who has no idea what you're going on about! You could be telling me to go to hell, for all I know! Grow up, and stop being so childish!"  
"Oh, _I should grow up, should I?" _

"Have I interrupted something?" A mild, amused- and definitely unexpected- voice butted in.

James suddenly realised he was standing extremely close to Catrin, and hastily stepped backwards to look at the interloper. A tall, slim man with an amused grin on his face was standing in front of the Portrait Hole.

The shock of blue hair kind of gave it away.

"Teddy!" James exclaimed, running both hands through his hair. The anger that had been roiling in him like lava suddenly evaporated. "Should I pinch myself?"

"Only if you want a bruise. Nah, your dad's giving a talk to some classes in Defence tomorrow and Tuesday, and I thought I'd pop along to see how things are going. I see you're...er...busy, though. Hey, Catrin. How are things?"

Catrin smiled massively, and sprinted across the room to give Teddy a hug. James was even more surprised to see his friend hug her back. Obviously they'd bonded over writing lessons and orphan-ness.

"Anyway, you guys. I've been hearing things about a Stone and some angry Ministry workers. It's back to business, I see. What have I missed out on?"

James quickly filled Teddy in on what was happening , including what he called the 'Benedict Betrayal'. Teddy nodded sagely, calm as always, and James realised just how much he'd missed his steady influence during the school year. "I heard about that. Victoire sent me an owl, and told me that your friend-"

"Ex-friend."

"That your ex-friend was a rat for Umbridge. Things are heating up at the Ministry, James. Umbridge isn't saying anything but I reckon she's made a deal with the so-called Warbeck- a deal with the devil, if you will. The chance to wield power with the Stone against the chance to get rid of a couple of pesky Potters- a dream for her. But I don't think Warbeck will let that happen, especially not if he's already in this school."

"Wouldn't it be better for everyone if the Stone was destroyed?" Catrin asked. She, like James, had apparently gotten over her temper via her curiosity, and was frowning intently.

Teddy shrugged. "Yeah, but nobody knows where it is. I think that's why they're trying to get you, James: they want to scare your Dad into telling someone about it."

"That's not going to work." James scoffed. "Dad's made of old boot leather; he wouldn't say anything!"

"You said it, not me."

Catrin yawned suddenly, stretching. "Well, I'm not going to face the Ministry without sleep. 'Night, all."

"Yeah, see you, Catrin." Teddy smiled at her retreating back, before turning to James. "James."

"Uh-huh?"

"Don't tell your dad, will you? She'll do it when she's ready."

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, is dad teaching us tomorrow?"

"I think so, yes."

James grinned. "Awesome. Though...I think I'll try and get him to tell me where the Stone is."

Teddy bit his lip in response to that one, and with no other answer forthcoming, James decided to call it a night.

Some things were always better faced after breakfast.


	18. It All Kicks Off

**Heya. Happy Hallowe'en! New chapter; read and review...:)**

"Why are you so excited, Jammy?"

"Oo says I'm excited?"

"Well, you're wolfing your food like nobody's business. Harmless guess." Fred shrugged nonchalantly, and twirled the bacon on his fork in a meaningful way.

James, with an effort, swallowed the rest of his porridge. "Well, you know Teddy's here."

"Victoire's reaction was hard to miss." His friend responded dryly. Victoire had indeed launched herself at Teddy upon seeing his familiar blue head bobbing around in the Gryffindor Common Room, as it had done for seven years. Having him back, even in normal clothes, was immensely comforting in some weird way- Teddy knew what to do in any situation, and his new job as a member of the Ministry only reinforced that view in James' opinion.

"Yeah, well, Dad's coming and giving us a lesson in Defence today!"

Fred whooped, and James grinned, sharing in his friends' enthusiasm. Harry Potter's lessons were invariably interesting, fun and a million times more engaging than Dawlish's brand of bullying.

"Did Teddy say how the family is?" He asked.

James shrugged. "Apparently, Uncle George is still obsessed with fezzes and bow ties. He's thinking of putting some kind of prank clothing into the joke shop."

"That's cool."  
"That's what George said about the fezzes."

Fred snorted into his beans, and didn't speak for a while.

"Hey, James, look at that. Aurors!" James looked around , following his friend's pointing finger, to see a delegation of black-cloaked figures milling authoritatively in the Entrance Hall. They looked armed and dangerous, and very like they were ready to go Stone-snatching. In fact, they looked rather like the people that Warbeck had attacked his father with on the platform.

That was weird.

* * *

"It's no good. I'm going to have to become a hermit who lives in the mountains and grows all their own vegetables. Charms makes _no sense whatsoever _to me. I bet you that one of us gets detention today. One Sickle. Deal?"

"Hmm. Okay." James scratched his head with his quill. "Well, I kind of get _alohomora. _Can you close that padlock again?"  
"Oi, it's my turn!"

"Fine, fine..."

Whilst Fred concentrated- looking rather constipated as he did so- James turned his attention to his bag, sorting through the mass of quills and parchment scraps. His bag seemed to have a permanent Summoning Charm for mess on them- how the heck had a Daily Prophet clipping managed to make it into his bag?

He stuffed it into his pocket for future spell practise- setting fire to it in the library might not be such a good idea in the vicinity of Madam Pomfrey- and waited for Fred to finish _Alohomora. _Absently, he rubbed his throbbing head- the Bludger attack was still giving him a bit of gyp.

"I hate Charms... I hope Flitwick retires soon...for heaven's sake! Hey James, drawing again?"

"Huh...no!" James looked down, almost surprised to see a pencil in his hand and the scraps in front of him doodled to grey. That was bad; he only did that when worried. He glared up at Fred's smirking face, and stuffed the pencil into his bag. "What's the time?"

"Er...time to go, actually."

"Come on, then! Defence is calling!"  
Together they sprinted to the third floor, where a large queue was already forming. Mary Jordan was practically bouncing on the spot; James always found it weird that people viewed his father as something closer to a saviour than a hero. Privately, he thought Harry thought the same thing.

"Come on, then, class." Reluctantly, Dawlish let them through; as James passed him, a cross between a sneer and- was it worry?- flashed across his face. He ignored it and slipped into his seat. If Dawlish was going to be creepy then he was going to ignore it.

"Hello, class. Well, here I am again, at the kind request of Professor Dawlish." His father had his 'people manner' on again, and it seemed to be working. Everyone sat up a little straighter, and snapped to attention in a way they never did under the ex-Auror. Patiently, Harry guided them through the basics of some defensive spells- Stupefy, Expelliarmus and Protego, although half of the class hadn't managed to cast them by the end of the lesson. Sadly, Catrin had. Looking at her, James was reminded of his half-promise to her and Teddy not to tell anybody about her unusual ancestors. It was only now that it started to grate on him, when looking at his father. If anyone deserved a bit more happiness in his life, he did.

"Right. Well done, everyone, you've all done really well. It doesn't matter if you don't manage it this lesson; keep trying. It took me a while to master them as well. So- any questions?"

Everyone looked like they were bouncing on the edges of their seats, but they all said nothing. Perhaps not sensing their excitement, Harry half grinned and dismissed them. As they all filed out, James swung past and up to the front of the classroom to meet his father.

"Hey, dad! How are you?"

"Fred; James! Not too bad, no."

"When did you get out of St. Mungo's?"

"What, that? After about two hours. Your mother's just a bit of a dragon."

Fred raised his eyebrows. "I'm telling her you said that!"

"Woah, mercy, Fred!" Harry laughed, raising his hands.

"Did you see those Aurors?" James interrupted the banter quickly, getting to the point. Harry sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Yes, yes I did. And they weren't put there by me or Ron either. I think it was somebody higher up..."

"Teddy said Umbridge." James butted in quickly. "What d'you think?"

"Teddy said that, did he?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's probably true."

"Dad- Macnair told us that one of the teachers here used to be called Warbeck."

"_Really? _Now that is interesting...but Macnair isn't a trusted source of information."

"Dad, I think he was telling the truth."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Alright, alright, I'll send an owl to Ron. Now, don't you two have lessons to go to?"

"_Da-ad..._"

"_Ha-rry..."_

"Go on! Don't get yourselves in detention whilst I'm here or you'll have me to answer to! If you don't go...I'll deduct some House Points!"

Grumbling, James shouldered his back and followed Fred to Charms. At the classroom door, he paused and looked back. His father was sitting on the desk, head in his hands, masking his face. James's artist's eye noted the slump of his shoulders and hunched back. He had never looked so..._hopeless _before.

That in itself was scary.

* * *

The lessons passed in a blur; Professor Flitwick gave Fred a detention for 'staring aimlessly' and when being asked to do _Alohomora, _blowing the lock off the box that was presented to him. Though James roared with laughter, the same thing happening in Transfiguration when his pencilcase, to his shock, started growing. Professor Patil noticed when it passed the metre mark, and after having put it back to normal, James found himself ordered to come back at six o'clock next day for his own detention.

"Ten points from Gryffindor too, Potter, and let that be a lesson to you!" She told him severely, flicking her long dark plait over her shoulder. "Everyone else: don't forget that I'm setting a mock exam to test all you've learnt so far. Yes, that includes transfiguring hedgehogs. They're not very vicious, so I'm sure you'll manage fine. Okay, off you go!"

"Old bat." James muttered savagely as they left for dinner. "I bet she's never transfigured a pencilcase before."

"Not many people do as a rule, James."  
They shut up as they passed the Aurors, some of whom were stilling standing in the Entrance Hall. Others had been seen sprinkled around the castle and grounds like silent guardians of some kind. Their ability to stand stock-still and not say anything made them supremely creepy characters, but fortunately there were only about ten or so of them. He guessed that they were only ones loyal to Umbridge.

James flumped down on a bench and reached for the stew, seething.

"Bad day?" Louis asked mildly.

"Awful." Fred said confidentially. "We both got detentions in different subjects. Is that even possible?"

"Obviously it is. Hey- have you seen the Aurors over there?"

"Yeah. Dad thinks they've been sent by Umbridge." Instinctively, all three of them looked down the table to where Benedict Umbridge was sitting alone.

"Oi- James. You owe me a Sickle! We both got detention today!" Fred exclaimed, suddenly looking a whole lot more cheerful.

"What? I wasn't...ugh. Fine!" James reached inside his pocket for some loose change- but instead his fingers encountered the Daily Prophet clipping from earlier on. Frowning, he unfolded the parchment for the first time and scanned the page.

"_Promising Potioneer Expelled From Ministry_

_Menton Merrythimble Warbeck was today expelled from the Practical Potions Department in a sudden swoop by Ministry officials, the Daily Prophet can reveal today. Warbeck, 26, was an academically gifted student whose findings in the area of the Wolfsbane Potion and the Draught of Living Death influenced some of the most important recent magical discoveries and landed him several awards. However, the Ministry has revealed today that the break-in on the 31__st__ October of the Department of Mysteries and attempted necromancy in the Death Chamber (read more on page 12) was believed to be his work. "We cannot tolerate such severe breaches of security from staff, as I'm sure you'll agree, especially in the field of Necromancy." said the Head of the Potions Department, Timon Waffling. "It is for this reason, with the greatest regret, that we are releasing Mr Warbeck from our service."_

_Necromancy is one of the most strictly forbidden arts in the Ministry, and with good reason. We only need to look at the Goblin Wars of the twelfth century...continued on page five."_

"James? _James_? Blimey, I didn't think losing a bet would affect him this much!"

"Is he alright?"

James swallowed thickly. The world seemed to have gone a bit cotton-woolly and slow from shock, and it was with a spinning head that he lowered the paper and looked at Fred, Louis and- by this time- Alice, Catrin, Teddy and Victoire.

"Fine-yeah, I'm fine." He croaked. He shook his head vigorously, which helped stop the spinning and clear his thoughts. "Fred- we really need to go and find Dad."  
"What- why? Can't it wait?"

"No."

"Blimey. Er- okay. Why not?"

"'Cause Warbeck is Merrythimble and he wants the Stone."

"_What?!"_ Catrin, Victoire and Louis gasped in unison. Teddy looked startled, but quickly recovered, drawing his wand from his pocket. "I'll come, too. He's up on the third floor."

James practically sprang off the bench and started running down the hall, not waiting for anyone else to come. Thoughts were pounding in his head to the rhythm of his footsteps. Stupid, stupid! _Why_ had he not read this earlier? It could have explained everything!

"Wait up, mate!" As if by magic, Teddy and Fred appeared behind, Fred puffing slightly. James didn't listen, though- he couldn't.

Soon, the third floor came into view and Teddy pointed them in the direction of a second Defence classroom that Dawlish normally used when teaching seventh years.  
"DAD!" He shouted on running into the room. Harry was perching on the edge of the desk underneath a guttering chandelier, riffling through some paperwork. He looked up, startled, as they approached.

"James? What's wrong?"

James didn't have enough breath, so he let Teddy explain. As his friend did so, Harry's eyes grew wider and wider. "Oh, no..."  
"Yes! So, dad, we need to get to the Stone before they do!"

"Nobody knows where it is." Harry slumped back against the desk, looking stunned by the onslaught of information.

"They're patrolling the grounds, dad!"

Harry swore under his breath. "Okay. Teddy. You need to go to the Forbidden Forest- enter near to Hagrid's Hut. I'd reckon it's about a mile in...get to it; destroy it. Do you understand me? I'm trusting you here. I need to get to the Ministry and inform them what's happening, then I'll come and join you."

Teddy nodded, once. Just then, James saw something flash out of the corner of his eye and turned to Merrythimble standing in the doorway. He gasped, unable to help himself, as the Potions Teacher- obviously realising that he'd been unmasked- lifted his wand and pointed it straight at James.

"No!" Harry leapt forwards and, faster than the eye could see, waved his wand in a sweeping arc, creating a barrier around James and Fred just as his spell blasted towards them. Even protected by the Shield Charm, the force of it ruffled their hair- Harry was thrown backwards against the wall with a loud crack and slumped to the floor, whilst Teddy fell against the desk.

"Dad!" James yelled helplessly.

For a moment, he couldn't hear or see anything, only his father, lying slumped like a rag doll against the wall.

Then Harry groaned slowly. "Oww. That _really...hurt." _

James could have wept with relief. "Dad?"

Harry breathed out, then, grunting with the effort, levered himself upright again, glasses askew. "James...you have to go...get the Stone...I need to warn the Ministry."

"Merrythimble's gone!" He heard Teddy shout, and then the thundering of footsteps.

"Crikey- what happened here?"

"Merrythimble blasted us. Albus- I'm sorry..."

"Dad? _Dad!_"

"M'alright, Al...blimey, my head hurts." Al tornadoed across the room and flung himself at his father.

"Al, _listen! _Can you do something really important? Go to the Teacher's Staffroom and tell them what's going on. That's how you can help your dad."

Footsteps again.

"Louis, we need to get to the Forbidden Forest, sharpish."

"It's a bit late for that, Teddy- haven't you seen?"

"Right." Harry announced loudly, making everyone jump. "I need to go to the Ministry. Teddy, remember what I said. James- take these. Good luck." James felt a pair of glasses being pushed into his hands. Surprised, he looked up. His father winked at him, and then Disapparated with a loud _crack. _

"James, come on..." James felt a hand shake his shoulder, and stood up slowly. He looked around into Victoire's eyes, and bit his lip as she pulled him in for a hug. Over her shoulder he saw that everyone was there: Fred, Teddy, Victoire, Louis, Alice, Catrin, Mary, and, oddly enough, Scorpius. He stepped out of the embrace quickly, and swiped his sleeve over his eyes. He couldn't think about his father anymore; he had given them a job to do, and James was damn well certain that he was going to do it.

"We have to go down there." He said fiercely, and was almost surprised when nobody objected. "Who's coming?"

"We all are." Louis said firmly, spinning his wand in his fingertips. "The sooner the better. We all ready?"

"Wait..." James hesitated, then uncurled his hands from around the wire-rimmed glasses. Ignoring their looks, he slipped them on, and watched everything jump into startling clarity. They felt right for him, and, surprisingly, fit. He felt rather like he was stepping into his dad's- and grandad's- shoes.

Well, there was a first time for everything.

"Now I'm ready."


	19. The Showdown

As far as the next ten minutes went, James was pretty sure that they passed in a blur of epic proportions, as the next time he blinked, they were standing outside the Forbidden Forest and Teddy was halfway through lecturing everyone else about the dangers of facing the Warbeckians.

"Remember, we're only doing this because it's absolutely necessary. We're only holding the fort until the teachers come and cope with the problem. Remember that. I'm not naming names, but James-"

"Hmm?" James did his best to look attentive and innocent. He failed.

"You've got that...look in your eyes."

"Look? What look?"

"Let's go and beat the stuffing out of as many people as I can. That 'look'."

"Come on! Would I?"

"Yes." Catrin intervened, spinning her wand between her fingers. James glared at her.

Just then, a massive explosion sounded from the forest, rocking the ground on which they stood. James stumbled as he fought to keep his balance, and when he looked up again two black-cloaked figures had materialised out of the darkness and were standing in front of them. Teddy shouted; the first one fell backwards as a Stunner slammed him in the gut- the second retaliated with a blistering purple spell which screamed towards them and skimmed over Teddy's hair.

"Go, _go, _GO!" He roared at them, and the group scattered like ants across the ground. James hesitated, and then sprinted full pelt for the cover of the trees, every sense in overdrive, expecting with every step to feel a Killing Curse slam into his back, his head, his legs as the spells rebounded off the ground and tree trunks, converting the school grounds into a warzone. If he could just get behind the guy, then he could Stun him from behind...

He made it to the tree line, and ran behind the first couple of trees to where Teddy and the hooded Ministry worker were having it out. James raised his wand and took careful aim, but...

"James! Look out!"  
Horror thrilled through him and he ducked instinctively at Victoire's voice, just in time for a Disarming Charm to rocket over his head, ruffling his head almost gently. He cast around desperately for his cousin and saw her locked in combat with a tall, gangly man whose face was creased in concentration. Her hair flew in a river of gold and she battled the Ministry worker, who looked like he was having severe difficulties in subduing her.

James bounced on the balls of his feet, every sense alight, waiting for his chance. When the man looked up, startled by her shout, James dispatched him with a Stunner. She grinned at him and raised her arm in thanks.

"Nice one, James!"  
She ran up to join him. "Where's Teddy? Louis?"

"He was battling some Warbeck guy, but..." James looked around and saw nobody. Teddy had, mysteriously, vanished. James hoped fervently that he'd be alright. "Where are the others?"

Just then, an ear-shattering _bang _ricocheted through the still night air, accompanied by a blast of heat and light. About twenty metres away from them, a tree exploded into flame and, unsteadily, sank onto the forest floor. Pine needles, though damp, flared. James could see it all, and swallowed, fighting down his claustrophobia.

"That's where they'll be." He said firmly. "You coming?"

"Yeah." Victoire looked at him sideways, oddly.

"What?"

"You look different now that you're wearing those glasses." She told him.

James started. He'd forgotten about the glasses. Who did he remind her of? His father? His grandfather? Oddly, the thought didn't frighten him as much as it had done beforehand. Not choosing to answer, he started a fast sprint through the forest towards the source of the noise- though every sense told him to sprint in the opposite direction and not stop for a good while.

They passed the burning tree, and now they could hear shouts and see flashes of light in the distance.

"Ah-ha." Victoire said quietly as somebody shouted 'You little-! Put that potion away!'. "That'll be Louis. He was hoarding some Exploding Solution." They sped up. Where were the fighters? James looked left and right, every sense on hyperalert.

As it turned out, they ran right into the fight. Light exploded around them as spells shot off the tree trunks. James dropped flat to the floor amongst the hissing pine needles as they bounced off each other, sparking into nothingness. Casting the strongest Shield Charm that he could over himself and Victoire, he staggered to his feet and saw that Louis was fighting his hardest against two black-cloaked figures.

James shot a _Rictusempra _at one of them, who swore and dodged out of the way, returning a _Levicorpus. _Beside him, Victoire's wand flashed and the second man was blasted backwards into a tree. The first man, on seeing his comrade, howled and charged them; James' Stunner hit him full in the face and he collapsed onto the floor.

Louis rubbed a hand over his face. "That fire's going to spread." He told the others. "But we haven't got the time to put the flames out."

Once again, James bit his lip on his panic, trying desperately not to think about being trapped behind an ever-shrinking wall of flame.

"James? You alright, mate?"

But then the peace of the night was shattered by a shrill scream that sounded horribly like-

"ALICE!" James roared, accelerating so fast from a standing start that his head spun. He crashed through the forest, searching blindly for his friend.

Like a nightmare the scene opened in front of him- Alice lying on the ground, her leg bent at an odd angle, with Catrin standing over her, fists raised defensively. Around them- four or so Ministry workers.

"IMPEDIMENTA!"James shouted, hitting the first square in the back. Catrin looked up; her face lit up with an involuntary smile as she saw him and she drew her wand as well.

It was like the fight scene from hell- the two of them over Alice's body in the flaming wood. James fired spells again and again- Catrin at his side, the two working flawlessly as a team. Vaguely, he wondered why they hadn't fought together before; they worked seamlessly, almost as good as he and Fred. The first...second Ministry worker tumbled to the floor, incapacitated, and James took after the third one. His hood slipped back; in the encroaching fire light James saw that it was Merrythimble, Chief Warbeckian himself.

"COME BACK!" James shouted, making after him.

He never caught up.

The Stunner caught him in the back, propelling him forwards across the ground like a giant hand had shoved him. Then the ground rushed up to meet him, and he coughed, temporarily unable to move. He'd been Stunned before, but never in this kind of situation. Terror blitzed through him and he began an animal struggle against the invisible bonds.

Somewhere nearby, a rushing, sucking sound reached his ears, accompanied by an orange glow and a faint tremor.

_What was happening?_

Eventually, after what seemed an eternity, the spell wore off and James was able to push himself shakily upwards. He fumbled for his wand and was about to say 'Lumos' when he stopped himself. Better not draw attention to himself just yet.

"Hello?" He said quietly.

Nobody answered in the stillness.

Biting his lip, James tried not to notice that now he was alone and immobile the trees seemed to be closing in on him, blocking out all light and space and- they were going to crush him...

_No!_

James dropped to his knees- which had suddenly turned into jelly- and pressed his head into the ground to try and block out the images of the killer trees. His head swam like a whirlpool as he took several deep, steadying breaths...in, out. In, out...

Something hard was pressing into his nose.

Lifting his head the bare minimum from the spongy pine needles, James squinted at the ground. Up close, he could see the imprint of his body where he'd fallen and skidded, dislodging several layers of soil. Lying there, small and innocent, was a small, round stone.

Perfectly round...too round.

James' heart stood still for several beats, and then a bit more.

Carefully, oh so carefully, he reached out with trembling fingers and brushed the dirt from the ground across the stone. Or, if he was right, the Stone.

Gently, he rolled the rock into his hand. It fit into the hollow of his palm as though it made for it. An ugly crack defaced the centre like a scar, but James could just about make out a curious shape: a small, triangular eye.

What were the chances?

This was it.

This was where his father had stood, twenty years ago, to face Voldemort, his enemy, the murderer of countless people and the one who'd feared death. This was where, James knew, that his father had died, and then- impossibly- come back to life, in order to defeat him.

And this, now, was where a crazed necromancer was attempting to search in order to gain some kind of power with his father's most hated Ministry hag.

And, at this instant, he was holding the final puzzle piece, the final key to solving everything. The Resurrection Stone; the way to speak to the dead. The way, if he wanted to, to speak to his family.

Could he?

_Should _he?

Could they help him with his claustrophobia? His dad had always said that they'd helped him past the Dementors, on one of the rare occasions that he spoke about what he called That Time. James' fingers teetered on the smooth stone, seconds away from a hundred different choices.

"POTTER!"

James gasped as Warbeck's voice thundered out of the darkness. Panicked, he flipped the smooth shard of rock over once, twice...three times.

Nothing happened.

Despite his thundering heart, there was definitely room for disappointment. What was that about? Wait until his father heard about this.

"James..." James nearly jumped out of his skin. What...

"Dad?" He asked tentatively. But somehow, he didn't think so. Every bone in his body thrilling with fear, he turned around- and almost screamed.

There were four people standing in front of him, vaguely seethrough, all ethereal, all smiling. It was plain that they were ghosts- shadows. But James still- despite himself- stared at them hungrily, taking in every detail.

His grandparents stood in front of him- Lily and James. His and his sister's namesakes, in fact. James didn't have much of an eye for female beauty, but even so, the tenderness in his grandmother's smile caused a lump to rise to his throat regardless. She had Al's eyes, and his fathers, although he could see a lot more of Harry in the person standing next to her. Sticking up hair, glasses, mischievous smile- James Potter looked an awful lot like his son- and himself, James realised with a shock.

The other man was somebody who graced an awful lot of Harry Potter's adventure stories- James recognised him immediately. Sirius Black, with his inky hair and casual good looks, was unmistakable. James' eyes finally flicked around to the last person- Arthur Weasley, his fiery red-grey streaked hair bright even in this light, and swallowed. He should probably make some meaningful, deep comment.

"Well. Fancy seeing you here." He managed.

James- the First- grinned broadly. "That's just what I was going to say."

"Hello James. Haven't seen you for a while. Nice night?" Arthur asked, looking up through the dark trees interestedly.

"Not exactly. We're fighting a megalomaniac." James had a niggling feeling that after this conversation the sheer unbelievability of what he was doing would catch up with him, but right now he was still in shock.

"Sounds fun." Sirius said solemnly. "Want us to help?"

"Er-"

But just then, a huge bang echoed through the trees. Flames spurted everywhere, and James took a deep breath to fight off the sense of panic.

"We don't have much time." Lily said suddenly, looking at something her grandson couldn't see. "James, darling, I'm so sorry that we couldn't speak for longer. But listen to me. This Stone has to be destroyed. The danger it's causing- to your whole family- is too much. I'm so glad I could see you this one time- I can't tell you how much- but you can't let this thing continue to exist. Do you understand me?"

James swallowed at the prospect. Somehow, he didn't think he was ready to let these people go. But Lily's stare was drilling into him, and eventually he looked downwards. "Yeah."

The shouts were getting closer; the fight was going to wash over them any second now. James could hear footsteps.

"One last thing." Suddenly, James the first stepped forwards. Displaying a complete disregard for the laws of physics, he clasped his grandson by the shoulders. James felt a jolt- like an electric shock- as they touched. Hazel eyes looked into hazel eyes.

"You aren't your father, James. Wow, its weird calling someone else that. You're going to be a great man- and, God willing, a great prankster- but _you're your own person. _Stop being scared of yourself."

"And have fun." Sirius butted in hastily. "Go out with lots of girls. Eat as many burgers as you want. Drink-oh yeah, tell my granddaughter and Harry that I love them both."

James opened his mouth to reply, but Arthur's yell cut across him. "_Behind you!"_

Instinctively, James ducked- just in time for the Stunner to fly over his head. He spun on his heel, letting out a yell, and came face to face with Warbeck again. He looked deranged.

"GIVE ME THE STONE!"

"NO." James told him- loudly, just in case he hadn't gotten the message. "It's not yours to have." He glanced around to see whether his relatives were there- but they'd vanished into smoke. Funny, though- he didn't feel scared anymore.

"Listen to me." Warbeck's voice became soft and persuasive. "You're just I was, you know, James. Young, curious, arrogant, clever. Clever enough to know that the winners in this world are the people who grab opportunities for themselves. Who seek power. Who _live._"

They stared at each other, alone except for the advancing flames. James stared at the face that he'd known for so long. How could he have been hiding _this _forall this time?

"Are you clever enough to think the same, James Potter?"

Was he?

_You're your own person..._

No.

"I'm clever enough to realise that trying to resurrect Voldemort isn't the way to get ahead in life." He told Warbeck. "It's your family and friends that make you, not power and greed. Go and give yourself to the Dementors- unless they can't stand you either."

Warbeck raised his wand.

Time slowed down.

Dawlish's voice echoed in his ears again.

_Constant vigilance! You're not alert enough..._

He was now.

Green light jetted towards him. James dodged easily, the thrill of battle setting his veins on fire. He fired one Stunner, two...the second clipped Warbeck just as he cast a Disarming Charm. James felt his wand fly out of his hand as his opponent staggered. The two of them stared at each other in the firelight.

"I'm not my father." James told him. "But I'm not you, either."

Warbeck sneered.

"Sod it." said James, and punched him.

Just the way he'd seen Catrin do it.

Merrythimble collapsed like a sack of potatoes, eyes rolling up into his head. For a moment, James thought he could hear his grandfather and Sirius cheering.

Then his knees buckled, and darkness washed over him.


	20. Waking Up

James was walking barefoot through a large meadow, waist-high grass tickling the soles of his feet and fingertips. The sun shone down pleasantly on his head; the sky was clear and blue, framed by the high trees on either side of the field. It was beautiful and peaceful here- he'd be quite happy to stay forever.

Suddenly, though, clouds raced overhead, blitzing through the sky on fast-forward and obscuring the sun. Like some sort of nightmarish figure, Warbeck loomed out of the grass towards him, growing taller and taller...blotting out the greying sky. James cried out, horrified, and reached for his wand, but it wasn't in his pocket... the grass twisted around his ankles, preventing him from moving as the giant marched towards him...

"Hey, steady on, mate!"

Startled by the ordinary tone of voice, he glanced sideways to find another man standing next to him in the waist-high grassland. Tall, lanky, with a shock of black hair and laughing hazel eyes, he grinned- a devil-may-care grin- at James, who smiled uncertainty back, bolstered by the man's sunny confidence.

"Buck up, son." He reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a wand, spinning it skilfully between his fingers. "Here, have mine." He tossed it across to James, who caught it, surprised, and examined it.

It was his own wand.

Weird.  
James raised the wand. "_Lumos_!" A ray of light lip up the darkening clearing, sun-bright, driving away the shadows. The Warbeck-figure retreated in light of the blinding glare, hopelessly defeated. It roared once, and melted away into the grass from where it came.

James glanced sideways at the other man, who winked.

"Here," He said, throwing the wand back to the other. "I don't need it anymore."

"Attaboy."

The meadow started to retreat, blackness working its way across from the outside in, towards where they stood.

"Well, guess it's time for me to go." The older man stuffed his wand into his pocket, and ran hands through his scruffy hair. "Have a good one, James. You owe me that at least!"

"Yeah..." James looked more closely at him, and recognised his dead grandfather. "Hang on...wait!"

"No can do. It's you that's going, not me. Don't stress- it's only a dream!"  
"But..."

"James? Are you awake?"

James blinked. The meadow and James Potter vanished in a flash; a world of whiteness replaced it.

"Oooh, look, he twitched! He-llo?"

James blinked again, and whiteness resolved itself into the Hospital Wing's frescoed ceiling, ablaze with light. Above him bobbled the heads of Ginny and Lily, who were frowning at him. And Albus, who was sticking his tongue out.

"Hey, Lil." He croaked. Lily beamed at him and threw her arms around his head.

"Owch!" His head felt rather as though it had been stuffed full of pins and needles, and was now throbbing painfully. James raised a cautious hand to it, and was pleased to find that no serious brain damage had been caused. So far, anyway.

"Here you go." A glass of water appeared magically at his elbow. James hoisted himself up into a sitting position and threw it down in one. It slid down his throat like pure bliss, soothing a dry and sore throat.

"How long was I out?"

"Idiot." Ginny leaned forwards and hugged him tightly, pressing her face into his hair. James let her hug him, enveloped in her smell of uniquely mum, and listened to her rapid-fire talk.

"You've been out for around half a day. They found you in the forest- you and Merrythimble- both breathing in smoke to within an inch of your lives. It was a miracle you woke up, apparently. What did you _do?" _

"What happened to everyone else?" James dodged her question with one of his own. Was everybody else ok? Ginny drew back and stared at him, eyes suspiciously bright. Awkwardly, James avoided her eyes, and looked to Al, who took over immediately.

"I ran to the staff room, and they went down right after. The forest is in a bit of a mess now- everyone was fighting and there was a _huge _fire. Really big! Hagrid and Professor Longbottom are looking at it now, Dad said."

"But-" James didn't get to finish his sentence, because just then the doors to the Hospital Wing burst open and Fred, Alice, Teddy...all his friends strolled in, looking extremely pleased with themselves.

"James! You're up! Hallelujah!" Fred called.

"Shut up!" James yelled back affectionately. When his cousin reached the bed, the two boys instantaneously hugged each other hard, each relieved that the other was alright.

"You're all fine then." He said, looking at everyone's faces. Apart from the huge bags underneath Teddy's eyes, and the fact that Louis' arm was in a sling, they seemed relatively unhurt.

"Yeah. I don't know how, though." Teddy shrugged. "It was...well, you were there. It was a battleground. I managed to meet up with Victoire and Fred, and together we held our own 'til the teachers and Ministry- well, the good guys, anyway- arrived. They've all been taken off to Azkaban now."

"And...Warbeck? Dad?" James dared to ask.

Victoire shrugged. "Warbeck was nearly finished off by the smoke. He was in no state to resist anything, and he's for Azkaban- after he gets out of St. Mungo's! Harry's fine, by the way. He got the Ministry and led the charge. Impressive fighter, eh, Ginny?"

Ginny grinned unrepentantly, refusing to blush.

"Only four in the Hospital Wing at any one time!" Madam Pomfrey came bustling into the room, apparently unable to cope with massive influx of people into her domain.

"We'll go." Ginny offered, putting an arm around Lily. "Come on, Al. We'll go and tell Grandma Weasley, shall we?"

"Uuhhh..." Al fidgeted. "Can I stay here?"

"Suit yourself." Ginny raised both eyebrows."Cmon, Lil."

James sighed as they left, leaning back on the pillows and looking into his friends' faces. "Well. We did pretty well, eh? Beat Merrythimble into a cocked hat. Or a thimble, in fact."

"Yup." Fred perched himself on the edge of the bed; Catrin and Alice on the other side. Teddy's arm slid around Victoire's waist, and she leaned into his shoulder. Louis smirked at both of them, and leaned against the window, silhouetted by the afternoon sunlight.

"What happened to the Stone?" Fred asked curiously, ruffling his curls.

James shrugged. "No idea." What _had _happened to the Stone? The events that had taken part in the Forest seemed like a dream, but he _thought _that he'd held onto it. "I guess we'll find out sooner or later."  
"Yes, being the genius detectives that we are." Louis said lightly.

James snorted- they'd only discovered who it had been after it was too late. Absently, he rumpled both hands through his hair- only to discover that one hand was still clenched tightly into a fist. Around something.

Suspicion flowered inside his chest. Carefully, hand half-hidden by blankets, James slowly unfolded his hand, muscles cramping after so much time spent in one position.

A lazy grey eye winked at him from underneath the duvet, and he felt his heart stop.

"Y'alright, mate?" Fred called from the other side of his bed. James looked up guiltily, and slipped the Stone- now found- underneath his leg. It could wait for another few hours- heck, it had been waiting for nineteen years already.

"Yeah, good. Just wondering how everyone managed to survive. Especially you."  
"Me?" Fred looked shocked, then annoyed.

"You have the subtlety of a baboon."

"It's the hair." Fred waved a hand towards his bright ginger locks. "I blended in perfectly with the flames. Those guys never knew what hit them."

Catrin and Alice snorted, and the atmosphere lightened several notches. For those precious minutes, everyone was together, triumphant, and unhurt, and James was shatteringly happy.

* * *

It took a few days for James to recover completely from smoke inhalation, stress, shock, and god knew what else had been fermenting in his system whilst he'd been in the Forest. Sadly, though, he didn't get much time to recover- Fred, Catrin and Alice had taken it upon themselves to lighten the burden as much as possible with copious piles of homework- so much, in fact, that James was starting to entertain a vague suspicion that they were making some of it up. When not writing essays on the Chinese Chomping Cabbage, he'd started to take up drawing again- it passed the time if nothing else- and soon, the margins of his homework were sprawling with doodles of beds, chairs, and a couple of less-than-flattering caricatures of Madame Pomfrey herself.

Despite that, he relished their visits, not least because of the little titbits of news they brought with them from the outside world. James was a social animal if nothing else; he loathed not being in the thick of it- he loathed, Catrin claimed, not being the centre of attention. The wannabe Death Eaters had been sentenced to five years or more in Azkaban, thankfully, and Merrythimble/ Warbeck for life. A shame, really: his Potions lessons had been entertaining, if nothing else.

The Stone remained an issue; James wrestled with his conscience for several days in his rare alone time, turning it around and around in his fingers- although taking special care not to turn it over, for fear of a repeat performance of what had happened in the woods. If he was being honest with himself, the Stone's fate had never really been in doubt- he knew what he had to do- but still, the possibility of undead people only he could see...imagine how easy that would make his exams. He'd only told Fred about it- the person he trusted most. His friend's eyes had gone as round as saucers, but he hadn't said a word about James's decision. For that, James was eternally thankful- even more so that he hadn't picked someone like Mary Jordan as his bestie...although, honestly, that wasn't really going to be a problem.

"James?"

"Huh?" James looked up from his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages to meet Fred and Catrin's gazes. They were flanking his Hospital bed, looking serious.

"Didn't you hear what Madame Pomfrey said?"

James tried on his best innocent expression. "Uh. No?"

Said Madame Pomfrey stuck her head out of the door to her office. "You're free to go, Potter! And let this be the last time I see you in here before the end of term!"

"Really?" James snapped the book shut gleefully.

"No, she's making it up to spite you. Of course! Get up, up!" Fred flapped at his bed sheets- on top of which James had been lying, fully clothed. "You'll just be in time for the Auror's leaving, if you hurry."

"What! They're going?" James leapt up, book tucked under arm. "Ah, no! How long do we have?"

"Depends on how fit you are." Catrin smirked.

"Don't mention the paunch, woman. Come on- let's go!"

"What about your books-"

"They can wait!" James was already at the door. "Where's my Nimbus when I need it?"

"But-"

"I'll race you!"

James' legs took the toll on the flat-out sprint from the seventh floor to the Entrance Hall; he hadn't exactly been running marathons whilst he'd been lounging around, thinking up new ways to caricature Madame Pomfrey's face. Pride, though- wonderful pride- wouldn't allow him to let either Catrin or Fred catch up, and together they flew down the stairs, leaping trick stairs and running headlong through tapestries.

The tail ends of the Aurors' cloaks were visible through the doors to the Entrance Hall as they arrived.

"DAD!" James roared, gasping for breath. "Hey, wait-DAAAAD!"

The cloak at the back turned; James saw his father pause, and grin widely. "Hey, James! I thought I wasn't going to see you!"  
"Haven't...gotten rid of me...that quickly." James wheezed. "Got something...for you."

"Really? I got something for you, too."

"Me first." James stuck his hand into his pocket, glanced up at his father's face, and shoved the Resurrection Stone into Harry's hand. "Destroy this. Please."

Harry's eyes widened. "James- where-what-"

"Please. Promise me."

"I...yes. Of course. I promise."

Their eyes met; an unspoken understanding passed between them. Lily's last message hadn't been in vain, after all: James was confident that his father knew what had to be done. If they couldn't trust Harry Potter, after all, who could they trust?

Quietly, with the Aurors, Catrin and several other students looking curiously on, Harry slipped the Stone into his pocket...and took a small box out in return. James eyed it mistrustfully.

"What's that?"

"Well, you took my Marauder's Map...don't deny it! But I won't let you take my glasses. So these are for you. We can learn some things from Muggles, James, don't you forget it!"

James studied the box carefully.

"Contact lenses?"

Harry winked at him.

"Have a go, mate. You never know...maybe small, invisible specs are better than the real thing. See you in a couple of weeks' time."

And with that, he turned and strode into the morning light, an emerald silhouette against the sunlight- one amongst many- until, eventually, they passed through the exit to the courtyard and disappeared.


End file.
